Prussia the Boss and Chibi Germany
by Blueninjamanga22
Summary: We've heard the stories of Romano and Italy's childhood, now it's Germany's turn. Join Prussia as he attempts to raise the most stubborn child on the planet. T because I'm fluent in Profanity.
1. Chapter 1

_**This is my first Hetalia fanfic, but after reading (and laughing my ass off because of) a few other fanfics, I knew I wanted to write something like this. I hope you enjoy! **_

_**All this info is true, at least, according to the internet. If I help you on your history test . . . you're welcome. **_

_**~ * ~ * 1 ~ * ~ ***_

Prussia glanced over the empty land, checking for any sign of life. So far, there had only been bunnies and other sorts of animals that weren't awesome enough for his awesome eyes.

He sighed. Didn't this used to be Holy Rome's place? Where'd that little non-awesome chibi brat _go_? Italy was going to be crushed.

Prussia stopped in his tracks when he heard a sound, and when he listened a little longer, he realized it was the sound of _music_. Funny, he thought this place was empty . . .

"_Austria_!" Prussia exclaimed, noticing the non-awesome boy on the hillside. Unlike any other time of day, the nation had a flute to his lips rather than a usual piano at his fingertips. Strange, Prussia would have expected him to have dragged the piano all the way over here.

"Oh," Austria rolled his eyes. "It's you" And with that, he raised his flute again and began playing.

"_Don't ignore me, I'm awesome!_" Prussia snapped, slapping the flute out of his hands. "And what happened to your piano?!"

"You didn't expect me to drag a piano all the way over here, did you?" Austria scoffed, dusting the grass off with a handkerchief. Once he was sure his flute was rid of all its unholy germs, he began playing again.

"What're you doing here?" Prussia snapped, knocking the flute out of Austria's hands for a second time. Austria scowled, picked up his flute, and then used it to slap Prussia across the face.

"_Ow_!" Prussia exclaimed, a bit of blood coming out of his mouth. "_Fuck you, Austria_! That thing's made of _metal_!"

"I know," Austria replied, cleaning his flute for a third time. "That's why I hit you with it"

"Why are you even _here_?" Prussia snapped.

"I think it's obvious," Austria said. "Because of Him"

"Who, your boyfriend?" Prussia mocked.

"Prussia, I'm married. Unlike some lonely people," Austria scowled. "And no. My people keep reporting to have seen some little boy around these parts, a kid. I've only seen him once"

"What does he look like?" Prussia asked, gaining a slight bit of awesome interest.

"You know, he's a cute kid. Blonde, blue-eyed─" Austria started.

"Does he look like anyone we know?"

"Now that you mention it," Austria bit his lower lip. "He does kind of look like Holy Ro─" realizing Prussia's point, Austria scowled at the other nation. "Holy Roman Empire fell, Prussia, he's no more. He faded. Also, I'm sure this kid's younger than Holy Roman Empire"

"Huh," Prussia looked over the hills. "Maybe he's my awesome little brother"

With that, Austria laughed. It would have been mocking, but he was too proper for that, so it sounded more like a child's giggle. "_Please_, Prussia, I was here first. He's _my _little brother"

"Oh, yeah?" Prussia scowled, and when he couldn't think of a comeback, he simply grabbed Austria's flute and took off running.

"You _jackass_!" Austria exclaimed, running after the nation. "Give it _back_!"

* * *

"Here, awesome, awesome," Prussia called "That is, if you are as awesome as the awesome me!"

"Who're you?"

Prussia turned, seeing a little boy sitting in the grass. He had a number of puppies around him, about three or four in total, and he looked to be around three years old. His blonde hair fell over his forehead, and his blue eyes looked a little too intimidating for such a young kid. But, even so, Prussia smiled at the strange little boy.

"I'm the awesome Pru─"

"You're not very modest, are you?" the boy asked, picking up one of his puppies.

Prussia only stared at the little boy. He didn't know what the word 'modest' meant; how the hell did this _kid_ know?

"Uh . . . . What?" Prussia raised an eyebrow.

"You just came out and called yourself awesome," the boy said. "It's your self-esteem really so low that you have to remind yourself that you're awesome in every other sentence?"

"Now you listen here, _bud_" Prussia gritted his teeth. "I don't know what the _hell _you meant─!"

"Using profanity around a _child_," the boy sighed. "You might as well just write 'Narcissistic Idiot' on your forehead"

"_Shut up_!" Prussia snapped, already getting frustrated with this kid. "I don't know what those big words mean, but I'm the awesome Prussia and I am _not an idiot_!"

"Whatever floats your boat," the boy sighed. Prussia looked at him and realized that he pronounced his 'w's like 'v's.

"Your accents like mine," Prussia said, and then smiled. "That means you're my little brother! What's your name, kid?"

"Germany"

Prussia scowled as he saw a familiar face walk over, one he knew to well to be 'that fucking Austria'.

"His name is Germany," Austria smiled. "And he's my little brother"

* * *

_**Not so much humor in this first chapter, but I'm merely making this story FOR humor. However, everything's gotta have a first explanatory chapter, so here it is. **_

_**History explanation:**_

_**Germany developed after the Holy Roman Empire fell, and almost instantly, Austria and Prussia began fighting over control of Germany. **_

_**Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed!**_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

_**Ninja **_

_**If you watched Fairy Tail, you'd get my sign-off. And a cookie for being awesome. **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Ok, I normally continue a story if it gets four reviews in three days, and this story got one. But since the number of follows and favorites are pretty big, I decided to continue this anyways. You're welcome. Well, not exactly 'you're welcome' because I really did want to continue this. **_

_**~ * ~ * 2 ~ * ~ * **_

Austria staggered for a little bit, then collapsed. Prussia remained standing, breathing heavily, while a little trickle of blood came down from his forehead to his chin. He waited for a second, trying to decide if the musical nation was trying to trick him. Three or four minutes past; Austria didn't get up.

"I won?" Prussia asked no one in particular, and then a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "_I won!_" the albino nation laughed, pointing to the sky, and then to the nation that lay at his feet. "Take _that_! _Fick dich, Österreich_! I . . . I w-win . . . "

Prussia staggered a bit, and then fell to his knees. Despite the fact that he was _so_ much more awesome than Austria, he was tired. As well as covered in wounds. But, hopefully, this kid was worth it.

"Hey — Hey Germany!" Prussia climbed to his feet, looking around. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen the little blonde boy since he and Austria started fighting. "I won!"

"I could hear you," Germany said, looking up from his place on the hillside. He seemed to be playing fetch with his puppies, all of which were somehow already trained. His little arms couldn't throw the stick very far, but the steepness of the hill did help it along. Prussia wondered if the boy thought of that.

"Well, I won. You're my little brother now" Prussia proclaimed, expecting the boy to agree and run into his arms like a good little boy. However, the only thing he got from the little brat was the evil eye and the cold shoulder.

"No"

"_What do you mean 'no'?!_"

"No"

Prussia gritted his teeth "I just fought and won a _war_ for you, you little brat! I don't care whether you like it or not, you're coming with me!"

"No!" Germany exclaimed, and then whistled. "Attack!"

Before Prussia could even utter the words 'how the hell can this kid whistle?' he was attacked by at least seven puppies, making him fell to the ground and knocking the wind out of him. This could have been the cutest thing to have ever happened to him, except every one of them had made it their mission to bite and gnaw on every bit of skin they could find. And damn, their tiny little fangs _hurt_.

"You little _shit_!" Prussia exclaimed, getting back on his feet and pushing a puppy off his shoulder. "You're coming with me!"

"No!" Germany exclaimed, and if he hadn't known better, Prussia would have guessed that the word 'no' was the only thing he knew how to say. Prussia made a grab for him, and the little nation was too slow. Prussia had already grabbed him around the waist, while he kicked and screamed and tried to get out of Prussia's grasp.

"Stop — fighting — me!" Prussia exclaimed, and with that, the boy stopped moving.

For the first couple of seconds, Prussia thought he was dead.

He freaked out for a little bit, doing an awesome little panic dance. But he realized that the boy was still breathing, and very frailly pounding a tiny fist against his chest. Germany was fighting to keep his blue eyes open, and he let out a yawn. He was exhausted.

Prussia cradled the child for a little bit, knowing that Germany's little tempter tantrum had tired him out, and he realized what Germany really was. He was a toddler, he needed naps and hugs and puppies and all things that are nice. And the poor boy was all alone out here, with nothing but a couple of puppies for company.

He wasn't sure of what he should do, so he held the child a little closer and began to sing, both softly and awesomely, a lullaby he remembered from his childhood. "_Leise, Peterle, leise__. __Der Mond geht auf die Reise.__Er hat sein wießes Pferd gezäumt, 'es__geht so sanft als ob es träumt.__Leise, Peterle, leise. Stille, Peterle, stille,__der Mond trägt eine Brille;__ein graues Wölkchen schob sich vor,das sitzt ihm grad auf Nas und Ohr.__Stille, Peterle, stille.__Träume, Peterle, trauma, der Mond guckt durch die Bäume.__Ich glaub sogar, jetzt bleibt er stehn__um Peterle im Traum zu sehn.__Träume, Peterle, träume._"

The song was called 'Quiet, Little Peter, Quiet', and Prussia could distantly remember someone singing it to him. Someone female, someone he couldn't quite remember. Maybe a nation, maybe a human, it didn't matter. Germany seemed to like it, and that was what mattered.

This kid was nothing but a handful, but Prussia knew he had already gone too far to leave him behind. Besides, he'd already beaten Austria for the kid, and he wasn't about to leave him in Austria's hands.

* * *

For the first couple of days, Germany didn't even say a word to Prussia. He only sat in his room, one that only consisted of a bed, because Germany hadn't bothered to decorate his room. And he hadn't said a word to Prussia.

Now, Prussia wished he would _stop talking_.

"You need to stop drinking beer around the house," Germany said from the kitchen. Prussia rolled his eyes, popping another can of beer open and taking a long sip.

"It's my house," Prussia scoffed. He was about to take another sip of beer when an empty can soared in from the kitchen and hit him on the back of the head. The impact made him spit it out all of his beer.

"What the hell — ?!" Prussia turned, and quickly found out that that was a bad idea. Another can flew over and hit him square in the forehead.

Prussia gritted his teeth, rubbing the red bump that currently occupied his forehead. "What was that for?!"

"If you didn't leave your beer cans around the house, I wouldn't have anything to throw at you" Germany said, grabbing another can of beer and chucking it at Prussia.

This kid was gonna be a handful.

* * *

_**This was short, but efficient. I think. As for the song Prussia sings, it's an actual German lullaby. Don't go on Google Translate for a translation, though, I tried and it's all fucked up.**_

_**Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed!**_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

_**Ninja **_


	3. Chapter 3

_**All I can say is, thanks for the reviews! And to DawnCentral, I can see him as being ChibiMany. And that name is super adorable. **_

_**I don't own Hetalia, but for the sake of ChibiMany, I wish I did. **_

_**~ * ~ * 3 ~ * ~ ***_

"Why do I have to come to your stupid meeting?" Germany grumbled. Prussia glanced down at his younger brother, then got down on his knees and proceeded to try to fix his hair. Germany didn't have a lot of hair, but it was thick and fine, not to mention all over the place. Locks of his blonde hair fell over his forehead and into his eyes, and the little boy seemed to like it that way.

"You need to get your hair out of your eyes," Prussia said as he combed back Germany's hair with his hands. Germany shook his head, making his hair fall right back into his eyes.

"If you don't let me fix it, I'm going to have to buy you hairclips. The bright and sparkly ones," Prussia threatened. "And you're already chibi, so people are going to think that you're a girl. Do you want to walk around looking like a little chibi girl-boy?"

Germany grumbled and shook his head, allowing Prussia to force his hair to stay back and out of his face. But from behind him, Prussia could see the little boy put his hair back into the state it was.

"You didn't answer my question," Germany said, looking up at his 'brother'. "Why do _I_ have to go to your _stupid_ meeting?"

Prussia knew that Germany was emphasizing on the words 'I' and 'stupid' just to piss him off. Prussia rolled his eyes, grabbing his little brother's hand. Germany fidgeted and tried to take is hand away, but Prussia didn't let them. After all, they were crossing the street, and if Germany was going to be a brat about the meeting, then well . . . that was his own fault.

"Because," Prussia said. "I can't leave you home alone for more than ten seconds; you'd make those mutts of yours destroy the damn house."

"Black, Red, and Gold are going to miss me," Germany glanced over his shoulder as if he could just imagine the three puppies whimpering and pouting because of his absence. Prussia could see that too, since those puppies really did love Germany. Out of the ten to seventeen (give or take a few) puppies that Germany started out with, Prussia let him pick and keep three of them. The others had been sold for 3 euros a puppy.

"It's only an hour," Prussia promised as they came across the meeting room. "And it's no big deal, maybe some of the others brought their little brothers"

"Or sisters" Germany pointed out.

"What are you, a feminist? Besides, I need to show you off to Austria" Prussia smirked.

Germany rolled his eyes, and seconds after the doors to the meeting room open, he was hit smack in the center of the forehead. When he reached down to see what had hit him, it turned out to be a rubber duck.

"Bulls Eye!" an obnoxious voice yelled. "That's another ten points for me!"

"Watch where you're aiming, moron!" Germany yelled, rubbing his forehead.

"Morons were invented in South Korea, da-ze!"

Germany glanced up, seeing two little boys sitting behind a cardboard fort in front of a Dry-Erase Board. Currently written was _America: 20, South Korea: 21_. The boy with black hair reached up, replacing the '20 points' with '30 points'. Both boys had slingshots and a pile of junk.

"What the hell are you _doing_?" Germany asked.

"Trying to see how many people we can hit," the blonde boy (America, maybe?) said. "It's ten points if you get their forehead, five on the chest, and two on the foot. It's also five bonus points if you hit certain people"

"Yeah!" the boy Germany took to be South Korea said. "Like if you hit Iggy-Kun, it's fifteen."

"Who's—?" Germany started, but Korea had already taken out his slingshot. There was a cry of surprise, and then Hungary was trying to untangle a spoon out of her hair.

"That was her head! Ten points, da-ze!" Korea exclaimed, cheering.

"Damn!" America cursed, pouting. "Now you have 31 and I only have 30"

"Aiming for the feet was invented in South Korea, da-ze!" Korea laughed.

Germany took a couple of steps back away from the weird little boys, taking a seat next to Prussia. He had a little trouble climbing on, and when he did, his feet dangled over the side. Just for the hell of it, Germany swung his feet forward and back.

"Aw, your little brother's so cute!" Hungary exclaimed, grabbing Germany's cheeks and pinching them as hard as she could, stretching them back and forth just to see if he would look even more adorable that way. Germany would have slapped her hands away, but . . . her hands were so soft . . . and plus, he wouldn't hit a girl.

"Uh, yeah," Prussia said, looking away. "He's—uh—adorable"

Germany glanced up, wondering what the hell was up with his brother. From down on his chair, he could see Prussia's pale face blush. Not that that wasn't noticeable, as Prussia's albino face didn't have any color anyway, but blushing wasn't like him. Germany covered his mouth and did an evil, yet adorable little giggle. His brother, blushing up a storm because of a _girl_? Germany was never going to let him live that down.

"Hey, Big Brother?" Germany said innocently (causing Hungary to give a little squeal and hug him closer). "Why are you blu—?"

Before Germany could even finish his sentence, a potato soared from the back of the room and hit him square in the forehead. Prussia's eyes widened, and then he toppled backwards.

"He fainted! That's twenty points!"

* * *

_**Not much happened in this chapter, but at least I got to bring out America and South Korea. Those two are my top troublemaking duo. :) **_

_**Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, and Happy Holidays! **_

_**Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed.**_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!* **_


	4. Chapter 4

_**I'm sorry this chapter took so long, I was on vacation. Cruise to the Bahamas, and I got to snorkel in Key West (islands off the coast of Florida). Only bad part about the cruise was the lack of internet. I'm really sorry~! **_

_**Anyways, no more stalling. From here on out, this story will probably be like a collection of one-shots with hardly any connection to the last ones. But hopefully, they'll be fun. **_

_**~ * ~ * 4 ~ * ~ **_

Germany wasn't a big fan of sports, mainly because he was one for 'playing it solo', in America's words. However, when it came to lots of begging from the others, he had to give in.

While the grown-ups met up inside, for whatever reason, the younger ones got to play outside. Italy, Hungary's younger brother, found a soccer ball in the neighbor's yard and insisted that they play a round (ignoring Germany's exclaims of "you have to return that!").

"I wanna be on the same team as Roma-Chan and Germany-Kun!" Italy exclaimed happily, grabbing his brother by the arm. He would've grabbed Germany, too, if the little nation hadn't moved fast enough.

"_Chan_?! I'm not a _girl_, you bastard!" Romano exclaimed.

"Really? You had me fooled!" America joked.

"_Burn!_" South Korea exclaimed, laughing. "And burns were invented in South Korea, da-ze!"

"Shut up," Romano growled. "I'm picking the teams here because _I'm_ the oldest"

"You sure about that, da-ze?" South Korea said, pondering. "I know America-Kun is the youngest, and I'm older than him by a few years, and I think Taiwan-Chan's older than me, and Vietnam- Chan's older than her, and Hong Kong-Kun's older than her―"

"_I'm the oldest, dammit, leave it at that_!" Romano snapped; causing Korea to snap his mouth shut. Romano took in a deep breath (and had Italy tell him to breathe in and out), and then proceeded to pick the teams. "Ok, we've got two teams: Team People-Romano-Can-Tolerate and Team Those-Bastards."

"I'll be captain of Team People-Romano-Can-Tolerate," Romano then scowled at Germany. "And Germany can be captain of Team Those-Bastards"

Germany wasn't 100% of the reason why Romano hated him the way he did, but he didn't exactly care. He overlooked the people on his team, which were South Korea, America, Hong Kong, and Vietnam. Romano's team consisted of Italy, Canada, Seychelles, and Taiwan.

"Aw, you're on the other team," Italy pouted, and then smiled. "But at least I'm on the same team as Roma-Chan!"

"_-Kun_, you moron, I'm Roma-_Kun_!" Romano snapped.

Italy laughed, but then his face fell. "Who's that kid over there? Doesn't he want to play Football with us?"

"Aren't we playing soccer?" America and Canada asked, exchanging a confused glance.

Germany followed Italy's gaze, seeing a little chibi boy with black hair sitting on a bench, sketching something in a book. He didn't look very interested in what was going on, as he only continued to draw. Germany had to give him some credit, he successfully got some time of peace and quiet while all this chaos was going on in right front of him. He'd been trying to do that with no such luck for a while now.

"Italy, if he doesn't want to play, he doesn't want to play," Germany said, deciding to let the boy keep his peace. "Let him do what he wants"

"Maybe he thinks we didn't invite him," Italy said, and the poor boy looked like he was about to cry.

"Go ask him, then," Romano sighed, crossing his arms.

"Ve~, yay!" Italy exclaimed, happily, grabbing Germany by the wrist and dragging him along with him. "C'mon, Germany!"

When they were a few feet in front of the boy, he looked up. He had brown eyes that were a bit like South Korea's, except his didn't hold the same playfulness that South Korea's did. He looked serious, too serious for a child, and in a way that seemed almost emotionless.

"Hi!" Italy exclaimed happily. The boy looked confused, glancing to his left and right, and even checked behind him before pointing to himself.

"Yeah, you" Italy smiled. The boy looked at his sketch, then lifted a hand carefully, slowly, and gave a small wave.

"I'm Italy, and this is Germany," Italy exclaimed a little too loudly for an introduction. "But you can call him Germany-Kun. What's your name?"

The boy didn't answer.

"What's your name?" Italy asked again, starting to look a little confused.

Nothing.

"Well, I guess that doesn't matter," Italy smiled, not looking the least bit nervous, rocking back on his heels. "Do you want to play Football with us?"

"_Soccer_!" America yelled from the other side of the yard.

The boy looked a little guilty, tapping his fingers on his sketchbook, but he didn't talk. Germany raised an eyebrow. There was no way he wasn't hearing him, so why wasn't he answering? Was he that desperate to keep his peace and quiet?

"Hey," Germany said before Italy could even open his mouth. "Do you want to play Football with us or not?"

The boy gripped his sketchbook, and then spoke "_Gomen, watashi wa anata o rikai suru koto wa dekimasen_"

For a couple of seconds, the three just stared at each other. Germany looked at him, and then tried to make sense of whatever the hell he just said.

"I'm sorry, _what_?" Germany asked, raising an eyebrow.

"_Watashi ga nani o i~tsu teru no ka wakaranai_" the boy said a second time, biting his lower lip.

"What's he saying?" Italy asked, looking confused.

"I . . . I have no idea," Germany said, and then turned around. "Hey, Korea, can you translate for us?"

"I don't know what he's saying," Korea said, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"He's your brother!" America exclaimed.

"Taiwan-Chan and Hong Kong-Kun can't either!" Korea said in self-defense. "And neither can Vietnam-Chan, da-ze! The kid doesn't know Korean and he won't learn English, I don't know what he's saying!"

"He doesn't Chinese either," Hong Kong added. "I don't know _what _language he's speaking"

"Who cares if he's speaking Gibberish, speeds this up!" Romano snapped. "We don't have all day!"

"Uh, ok," Italy ran forward, grabbing the soccer ball, and then back over to the boy. He pointed to the ball. "This is a _Football_." He set it on the ground, and then kicked it over to Germany. "Kick it back, Germany"

Germany had a feeling this made absolutely no sense to the boy, especially since the poor kid probably had no idea what was going on anyway, but he sighed and kicked the ball back.

"See?" Italy smiled, pointing from his foot to the ball. He then kicked it to Romano, who stopped it with his foot. "Kick it in the goal, Roma-Chan!" Italy yelled.

Romano growled in annoyance. "Roma-_Kun_!" and the boy kicked the soccer ball into the goal with incredible force; Germany thought he might have broken the goal if he had kicked it any harder.

"Do you," Italy pointed to the boy "Want to play that," he pointed to the ball and the goal "With us?" he gestured to the group as a whole. Germany sighed, giving himself a tiny face palm. In his opinion, that hardly explained the rules of football, and he couldn't see the boy understanding that in any way at all.

The boy glanced to the soccer ball, then at his sketchbook, and then shook his head. From the middle of the field, Romano growled in annoyance.

"All that for _nothing_!" Romano exclaimed.

"It's fine," Italy smiled. "Let's just play Football!"

"What's your brother's name?" Germany asked Vietnam as the game started, as Romano instantly attacked America for the ball (but he just kicked it to South Korea, who proclaimed that the game was invented in South Korea).

"Japan," Vietnam answered, quickly kicking the ball back to America. "He's the quiet type; he doesn't like hanging out with people or anything like that. He just wants to draw and write in that funny language of his"

"You really can't understand him?" Germany asked.

"No, I only know Vietnamese and English, and Japan can't speak either," Vietnam answered, glancing back at her brother. "China-Nii says he's speaking _Japanese_, and it sort of looks like Chinese, but it doesn't sound like it. The only one who can understand him is China-Nii"

"Why doesn't he just learn English, then?" Germany asked.

"Japan is a little . . . strange" Vietnam answered.

"What―?" Germany asked, but he was interrupted when a soccer ball hit him in the middle of the chest.

"You can't use your hands, potato bastard!" Romano exclaimed.

* * *

Prussia left the meeting a bit earlier than usual, and it wasn't much of a meeting as it was a get-together. Even if it was unprofessional, it had ended just like a meeting would have. Britain and France had a mini fight to the death over 'their seat' on the couch, Spain broke some of China's dishes, and of course, China got mad because of that. And, traditionally, Prussia got hit in the head with Hungary's frying pan of death.

Prussia would have called Germany right away, but the boy was playing soccer. He hardly did anything social, anyway, and the little nation looked like he was having a good time. So he just stood there and waited for Germany to finish his game.

Next to Hungary. _Coincidently_.

Of course, his face was a little red since she bashed him in the head for saying something insulting to Austria. That was why. Prussia didn't know _why_ he even liked her, per say, but he just . . . did. Does there really need to be a reason?

"Hey," Prussia said, rubbing the back of his head. He didn't think Hungary grasped the concept that iron to the back of someone's head _hurts_ like _fuck_.

"Hi," Hungary smiled, and then pointed to a little boy that was tripping over his own feet. "That's Italy, he's my little brother"

"He's . . . cute," Prussia said, looking for the right words. "He's a little slow, though"

"Don't make me hit you again," Hungary threatened, pulling out her frying pan and lightly smacked it on her own hand.

"Did I say 'slow'? I mean fast. Intellectually fast," Prussia said nervously. He wouldn't usually be nervous about someone threatening him with a frying pan, but he knew Hungary would actually do it. And he'd already established that getting hit by that hurt.

"You better have," Hungary said, then sighed. "Honestly, it's nice to see him playing"

"Because of Holy Rome?" Prussia asked.

Hungary nodded "He's not the same, you know, not as innocent. I didn't tell him that Holy Rome fell, he figured it out."

"How do you know that he knows?" Prussia asked.

"He stopped asking if Holy Rome was ever going to come back," Hungary said, looking sad. "He stopped waiting for him to visit. I don't know if he knows that he fell, specifically, but he knows that Holy Rome isn't ever going to come back"

Prussia tried to picture it, to see a little Italy in his girly little dress waiting by the door, patiently waiting for someone who was never going to come. "I'm . . . sorry . . .?" _Damn you, Prussia, and you inability to comfort people_! He cursed himself.

"It's alright, he's happy," Hungary sighed. "But I'm a little scared that one day . . . he'll stop being happy"

"Hey, he has you," Prussia said. "He's always going to be happy"

Hungary looked over to him, a look of confusion on her face. Prussia then realized that he said something slightly romantic, and his face turned a shade of bright pink. He tried to cover it, but it wasn't easy with his pale skin.

Hungary smiled, "Prussia, I―"

At that very moment, South Korea burst between the two chasing after a soccer ball, screaming at the top of his lungs. "_CRUSHES WERE INVENTED IN SOUTH KOREA, DA-ZE_!"

"_I'm going to kill you_!" Prussia exclaimed, chasing after the little nation. Surprisingly, the little nation was fast on his feet and managed to keep himself safe from Prussia's grasp, but that didn't stop the albino from chasing him.

"I don't know what I did wrong~!" South Korea whined, as he tripped over a pebble and fell to his face. Prussia grabbed the little nation around the waist, as South Korea kicked and screamed and tried to escape his grasp.

Then possibly the scariest man any of them (and that included Prussia) had ever seen entered the yard from next door. He had short blonde hair and intimidating blue eyes behind glasses, and the entire yard was silent as he walked over to them.

"Are you the ones who took my football?" he asked, giving all of them a look of bloody murder.

"It's . . . called a . . . soccer . . . ball . . .?" America said, but his tone said that this man was making him question everything he'd ever done in his life.

"_Run, you bastards, run_!" Romano shouted, and all of them took off running. Even Prussia ran, and he was still carrying Korea. But Korea wasn't complaining, he kept his grip on Prussia and urged him to run faster.

Being the only one left, Japan jumped down from his bench. He walked over, picked up the soccer ball, and handed it to the scary-looking man.

"_Gomen'nasai, Sweden-San,_" Japan said, giving a tiny bow.

"Thanks," Sweden said, then reached into his pocket and offered the little nation a lollypop. "Do you want it?"

Japan nodded, and sat in the middle of the yard licking a lollypop that was almost as big as his face. He found it hard not to smile when he saw the others huddled in the back of the porch. "_Yowamushi_"

* * *

_**Ok, this chapter came out longer than I planned, but hopefully it was good. Do NOT go on Google Translate to see what Japan says, it comes out all fucked up. **_

_**Here's what Japan says in Japanese, in order from when they appeared:**_

_**1). I'm sorry, but I can't understand you. **_

_**2). I can't understand you. **_

_**3). I'm sorry, Sweden-San. **_

_**4). Wimps. **_

_**Japan's kind of sneaky with that last one. **_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!* **_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Thanks for the reviews! And someone pointed this out to me; there was a little chibi axis moment in the last chapter. When Italy asked Japan if he wanted to play soccer (I am an American, so whatever you might call it, I say 'soccer') with them and made Germany come with him. I didn't even notice it, but the Axis had a little before-their-actual-times meeting. Thanks to A.R.C Fangirl 0w0v for pointing that out to me. :3**_

_**Also, I've posted another fanfic for Hetalia. It's called 'United We Stand', check it out if you're interested or just need something to read!**_

_**Enough rambling, I don't own Hetalia. **_

_**~ * ~ * 5~ * ~ * **_

Germany sat on his couch, flipping through the channels on his 'way-too-expensive' television. He'd told Prussia that they didn't need to spend so much money on a T.V. when they needed that money to pay the bills. Prussia didn't listen to him. Guess whose water got cut off.

There was a set of footsteps and a little jingling sound as someone came downstairs. Germany got to his feet, standing up to look over the chair. Prussia had his jacket on, and was grabbing his car keys off the counter.

"Where're you going?" Germany asked.

"Whoa!" Prussia exclaimed, dropping his keys. "Germany, what the hell are you doing awake?"

"It's eight o'clock" Germany said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but you're a kid. Isn't eight o'clock, like, midnight to you?" Prussia asked.

"No"

"Oh, well, then"

"You didn't answer my question," Germany said. "Where are you going?"

"Out" Prussia answered.

"Where?"

"Somewhere"

"To do what?"

"Stuff"

"With whom?"

"Whom?"

Germany rolled his eyes. "With _who_?"

"Oh. People"

Prussia grabbed his keys. "I'll be back in an hour or two, don't make any trouble"

"Wait, _wait_?!" Germany exclaimed, jumping off the couch. He then immediately stepped on Red's tail, and had to apologize with some quick hugging before running up to his big brother. "You're leaving me here _alone_?!"

"Yeah, you're mature and stuff," Prussia ruffled Germany's already messy hair. "And it's only for a few hours or so, you'll be fine"

"B-but . . . it's eight o'clock! I'm a kid! Eight o'clock is, like, midnight to me!" Germany exclaimed.

"You said it wasn't ten seconds ago," Prussia said, looking at the little boy oddly.

"I lied to seem more grown-up! Just don't leave me here alone!" Germany latched on to the albino nation's right leg, and Prussia had to admit that for such a little kid, he was strong. His little hands had an iron grip on his pants leg.

"Germany, you're not alone, you have three dogs," Prussia said, nudging him off his leg. "You'll be fine. Just keep watching T.V. or something," the nation smiled at the flat-screen. "That was _so_ worth losing our water. Just do what you'd do if I was here"

"But you're not going to be here!" Germany exclaimed.

"I'll be back in a little bit"

"Don't leave me here alone! _Prussia―_!" Germany cringed as the door shut, leaving him all by himself. The chibi nation shivered a bit, the fact that he was alone made the house seem more ominous and scary.

_Calm down, Germany, _Germany thought, slowly walking back to his seat on the couch. _This is your house; it's the same house you've been living in for the last month. The only difference is that you're alone. No big deal, it's not like you noticed Prussia while he was around, anyway. No big d―_.

_Creeeeaaaaaakkkkk._

"What was that?" Germany exclaimed leaping up out of his seat and flicking the TV off. In the silence, his own house seemed like a horror movie scene to him. Germany grabbed Red, hugging the little puppy tightly to his chest.

He waited a few seconds, waiting for something, anything, to happen. He waited for there to be a noise of some sort―the sound of footsteps, voices, a chainsaw murderer. Anything.

"H-hello?" Germany called, his voice shaking. Still clutching onto the puppy, he grabbed the TV remote and held it out in front of him like a weapon. As soon as he said that, he could hear footsteps.

"W-Who's there?" Germany spluttered, as the footsteps began to get louder and closer. Germany hugged the puppy tightly as he saw a figure come at him from the end of the hallway.

"_Get away from meeeeee!_" Germany yelled, squeezing his eyes shut, and throwing the remote at whoever was coming at him. Judging by the sound, he had hit his target.

"_Ow_!" a familiar voice whined. "Ve~, Germany-Kun, what was that for?"

"Italy?" Germany sighed, loosening his current death-grip on his poor puppy. "You―err― almost scared me for a second there"

"You weren't scared?" the little Italian asked, then gave a huge smile. "You're so brave, Germany-Kun! If I were you, I would've been terrified!"

"Right," Germany said. "What are you doing in my house? How did you even get _in_ my house?"

"Nee-Chan has a key," Italy smiled.

Germany figured that by 'Nee-Chan', Italy meant Hungary. Germany wondered why Hungary had a key to his house in the first place, but he didn't question it. That wasn't exactly the most important thing at the moment.

"Why are you here?" Germany asked.

"Nee-Chan wanted me to check on you, she said something about seeing Prussia leaving" Italy said. "Where is Prussia-Kun?"

"Out" Germany said.

"Where?" Italy asked.

"I dunno," Germany shrugged, trying to sound brave and pretended that Prussia leaving on such short notice didn't bother him at all. "He didn't tell me. He'll be back in an hour or two, anyway, so it's not a big deal"

"You're here all by yourself and you're not scared?" Italy gushed, looking at Germany as if he was some kind of storybook hero. "And it's, like, midnight! You really _are_ brave!"

"It's not hard," Germany said, then turned to the living room. "Do you want to watch TV?"

"Ve~, ok! I'm sure Nee-Chan won't mind if I stay a little longer!" Italy walked over to the couch, pulling himself up.

"By the way, Italy?" Germany asked, overlooking his friend up and down. "Why are you wearing a dress?"

Italy looked down, patting down his skirt as if this was the first time he noticed he was wearing one. "Nee-Chan says I look cute. Don't you like it?"

"Well . . . I suppose it's nice," Germany shrugged, not sure on what to say on the subject of Italy's cross-dressing habit. "But . . . you are a boy, aren't you? Boys don't exactly wear dresses"

"They don't?" Italy asked, looking a bit confused. "I've never noticed. Holy Rome never seemed to mind"

"Holy Rome?" Germany asked. "Who's that?"

Italy looked sad for a mere second, and it was the first time Germany ever saw him look any emotion that wasn't happy. "A friend of mine."

"Where is he? How come I haven't seen him around?" Germany asked.

Italy gave a smile. "That's not important. What do you want to watch?"

Germany thought that the matter of Holy Rome was _very_ important, but he decided not to pressure Italy about it. The poor boy didn't want to talk about it, and Germany wasn't going to make him. "I don't really care. We have Direct and On Demand, but if you want some water, you're screwed"

"Do you have Scooby-Doo?" Italy smiled. "I love that show!"

Germany eyed the little nation, and then flicked the TV to Cartoon Network. Just his luck, the theme song for Scooby-Doo began to play. Italy looked ecstatic, smiling as if this was the best thing on the planet.

Germany himself had never really gotten the show. The dog can talk, and he knew for a fact (after owning three of them), that no amount of teaching will make a dog talk. Not to mention the smart girl has no detective training at all, so how exactly does she know all that stuff? And finally, shouldn't those 'meddling kids' be in school?

But Italy liked it, so he guessed it was ok.

* * *

Germany hadn't moved for the last hour, even after Italy had to go home. Prussia wasn't home yet, and it was getting kind of late, but Germany hadn't noticed. He was on his third season of Scooby-Doo, since apparently, Italy is contagious. Maybe if he got him to hang around Japan for a little bit it would make him speak English.

"I'm home!" Prussia exclaimed, bursting through the door. Germany gave a little motion of greeting to him, but it ended up looking like he was trying to swat away a fly. Prussia coming home wasn't half as interesting as finding out who the jewel-stealing night-ghoul was, in Germany's opinion.

"Have you been watching this show all day?" Prussia asked. Germany gave a small nod, his glued on the TV.

"Jeez, don't you get tired of it?" Prussia asked. Germany didn't answer.

"Germany? Germany?" Prussia asked. The little nation didn't answer.

"Ok, I'm going to start calling you Germ," Prussia said, and when that didn't gain him an answer, he started coming up with more nicknames. "How about Ma-Ma, since you're GerMAny? Or Ge-Chan? Germa-Chan? Ger-Chan? Many-Chan?" Prussia had come up with about thirty embarrassing nicknames for the name 'Germany' (all saved in his mind for future use), and the little boy hadn't said a thing.

"Germany? You're not even listening to me!" Prussia exclaimed, aggravated. "You were begging me not to leave you alone and you don't pay attention to me when I'm here? Germany? Hey, Germany!" Prussia grabbed Germany by the shoulder, making the little boy jump and whisk around.

"Zoinks! You scared me!" Germany exclaimed.

And with that, Prussia took the remote from his little hands and turned off the TV. "That's enough Scooby-Doo for you"

* * *

_**Ah, Scooby-Doo. I loved that show (and I won't deny that I still do). **_

_**For those of you who've never seen Scooby-Doo, you probably don't get that last part. So, I'll explain. In the show, whenever one of the main characters gets scared, he yells out "zoinks!" it's pretty much his catchphrase, among other things. **_

_**I get it, you're probably like "Jesus, lady, you mentioned Holy Rome sadly two straight chapters in a row? What's wrong with you?" So, I'm sorry about that, I just felt like it needed to come from Italy's mouth for once instead of someone else's. Also, NOTHING is straight in Hetalia. NOTHING. **_

_**Don't forget to check out my new Hetalia story 'United We Stand'! I'll love you forever!**_

_**Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed! **_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

_**Ninja**_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!* **_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Am I updating too quickly? Oh, well, I got inspiration. :3 **_

_**I don't own Hetalia. **_

_**~ * ~ * 6 ~ * ~ ***_

Germany was beyond pissed off.

He grumbled as he pulled on his brand-new Scooby-Doo slippers (he'd wanted the ones that talked when you stepped, but Prussia made him settle for the ones that light up), and walked into the kitchen. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he stood on his tiptoes and made a grab for the cereal.

_Dammit_, he thought, crossing his arms in annoyance. He wasn't tall enough to reach the cereal. Why did he let Prussia put it on the top shelf? It was nowhere _near_ his grabbing-range!

Germany glanced at the clock. 10:15, he was hours behind schedule. He was supposed to wake up at seven, eat breakfast, enjoy a few hours of cartoons (Scooby-Doo, specifically), and then go to China's house at half-past twelve, as the nation had invited him and Prussia to lunch at his house.

The only reason Germany had gone to bed without an alarm was the fact that Prussia had insisted that he would wake him up on time. "You worry too much, West; you shouldn't be getting gray hairs at your age," Prussia had smiled. "I'll wake you up on time, don't worry"

Jackass.

The only reason Germany was even up at the time was because Italy called him asking if he was going to eat at China's, too. Germany had yelled for Prussia to grab the damn phone before he ran down and picked it up himself, and then made the horrible discovery that he had slept past ten (fifteen minutes counts).

Germany hated to admit it, but Prussia did play a big part in his morning routine. He could never reach the cereal on his own; Prussia would always have to get it for him. Of course, someone as mature as Germany wouldn't do something like point to the cereal box until Prussia got it for him. That was for children. No, he would wait for Prussia to grab whatever cereal he wanted (which was usually Apple Jacks, because he liked to do the puzzle on the back) and Germany would simply eat the same cereal as him.

But now Prussia was nowhere to be found, and Germany's entire cereal method was completely thrown off.

Germany sighed, and then decided that he'd rather have a piece of toast than starve. Getting the bread was the easy part; the next part was finding a way to get to the toaster. It was on the counter, and therefore, out of his reach.

Germany climbed onto a chair, and then onto the counter, and then popped the bread in the toaster. Waiting for the toast to get ready was the longest three to five minutes in his life. And when it did come out, it was burnt.

The little nation jumped off the counter, glancing around. He'd made a lot of noise when he yelled at Italy through the phone (he had woken him up, after all, and Germany did think it was around four in the morning), dragging the chair along the tiles, the toast popping out of the toaster. How is that all this noise wouldn't wake him up, but he could hear every little insult Germany muttered under his breath?

Germany sighed in annoyance, walking up the stairs and into Prussia's room. The albino nation was wrapped up so deeply in his covers; you couldn't even see the top of his head. And considering his blood red 'I am awesome!' bed sheets, that was pretty hard to do.

"Prussia, wake up. It's past ten," Germany said, flicking on the lights. Prussia groaned, turning over in his covers. "I'm serious; you have to get out of bed. It's a Tuesday"

Prussia didn't answer; he only turned the opposite way. Grunting in annoyance, Germany walked over to his brother and yanked the covered off his face. Then he put them back on him.

"_Dear Jesus!_" Germany exclaimed. "You look _horrible_!"

"Thanks, West," Prussia grunted from behind the covers, his voice coming out in rasps. "I try"

Germany wasn't lying, of course, but it would have been nice to keep quiet. Prussia's eyes were sunken, not to mention redder than usual, in his pale face. And if it was even possible, his face had gotten even paler than usual. Except for one thing; his nose was bright red, puffy, and made him sound like Squidward.

"You don't sound so good," Germany said, and then looked down at the bitten piece of toast in his hand. Feeling guilty for calling him a jackass when he looked this awful, Germany offered him the piece. "Toast?"

"I'm fine," Prussia answered.

Sighing, Germany wondered into the bathroom and found a thermometer. After dealing with a struggling Prussia ("hey, what're you doing? Get that thing away from my mouth!"), he managed to take his temperature.

"101," Germany read off, putting the thermometer on the nightstand and poking it away with a cotton swab (he didn't want any of Prussia's sick-spit on him). "You've got a fever"

"So?" Prussia muttered, and then sniffled.

"_So_ you've got to stay in bed if you want to get better," Germany said, picking up Prussia's cellphone. "I'm going to call China and tell him we can't come over"

"Why can't we?" Prussia asked.

"Because," Germany said.

"Because why?" Prussia asked, sounding more and more like a spoiled child.

"Because you're highly contagious at the moment, and if you go there, you're going to get all of China's kids sick," Germany said, dialing China's home number. "And he'll probably sue, and all the health insurance he has for all of those kids is probably worth a lot of money. You don't want that, do you?"

Prussia clamped his mouth shut and sneezed into a tissue, just as someone picked up the phone.

"_Moshimoshi_?" Japan's voice asked on the other end.

"Uh, hello? Japan?" Germany said, wondering where exactly this left them. Seriously, the kid can't speak English. Why would you even _let_ him answer the phone?

There was a little bit of yelling in the background, and Germany guessed that Japan had gotten the message. In a couple of seconds, China was on the phone.

"_Nǐ hǎo_?" China's voice asked.

"China? It's me, Germany," Germany said, looking at the ground. He didn't exactly like talking through phones; it made him nervous, for whatever reason. Usually, even when it was only for things like ordering dinner, he would shove the phone at Prussia and demand that he talked instead. Of course, that wasn't an option, now.

"Germany-Kun? Why are you calling from Prussia's phone-aru?" China asked.

"It was the closest. Um, listen, Prussia's sick. We won't be able to make it," Germany said. Prussia muttered something about not being contagious under his breath, but otherwise didn't say anything.

"Really? I wonder how-aru," China said, and his tone said he was thinking about something. "But that's a shame-aru. We'll miss you"

"Y-yeah, sorry about that._ Tschüs_," and with that, Germany hung up quickly, as to avoid any conversation. That's why he hated phone calls. They were so damn awkward.

* * *

The next few hours consisted of Germany feeding, entertaining, and overall taking care of his older brother. It was all, in a single sentence, a huge pain in the ass. Especially when Prussia refused to take his medicine.

"Prussia, the doctor says you need to take your medicine once every hour! I don't want you sick for more than a day!" Germany exclaimed, shoving the spoon towards Prussia. The albino nation, however, turned his nose as it and clamped his mouth shut.

"I don't _care_," Prussia whined through gritted teeth. "It tastes like _hell_!"

"It doesn't matter how it tastes, dammit, it's good for you!" Germany snapped, shoving the spoon towards him. "Now drink it and feel better!"

"_No_!" Prussia snapped.

"_Prussia, take your damn medicine_!" Germany exclaimed.

"No way!"

"Prussia, take it!"

"Nope"

"Prussia, drink your medicine!"

"You can't make me!"

"Prussia―!"

"No way in hell"

"_Big brother_!" Germany shouted as loud as his little lungs could muster. Prussia glanced over, his eyes wide. Germany then noticed that he'd never called Prussia anything that wasn't his name before, let alone something like 'big brother', and his entire face turned a shade of bright pink.

"Just . . . just take your medicine," Germany muttered, holding up the spoon as if he were offering it to Prussia.

Prussia smirked, and then stuck the entire spoon in his mouth. "Anything for my _little brother_"

"Shut up," Germany muttered, jumping off the bed. "I'm going to go watch cartoons. Get some sleep"

"Hey, Germany?" Prussia called.

"What?" Germany asked, stopping at the door.

"I'm sorry I didn't wake you up this morning" Prussia said, and this look on his face was the same look Germany had when he was on the phone. He didn't like apologizing, and he found the entire process awkward, but he would do it for him. Just like Germany had done.

"It―It's fine," Germany spluttered. "You're sick. Now get some sleep, maybe you'll be better tomorrow"

"Yeah, and Germany?" Prussia smirked. "You can call me 'Nii-San', you know."

"I'm not even going to call you 'big brother'," Germany scoffed, rolling his eyes. "That accidentally slipped out"

"_Right_," Prussia laughed, and Germany slammed the door before he could say anything else on the matter. Germany had made it halfway down the stairs before the doorbell rang.

Germany ran over, opening the door, and found Japan standing on his porch. The little Asian nation wore a bathrobe over a _Sargent Frog_ t-shirt, along with PJ pants that were covered in the _Fairy Tail _mark.

"Oh, hi, Japan," Germany said, wondering what the _hell_ was going on.

"_Kon'nichiwa, Doitsu-San,_" Japan gave a small bow. Germany wasn't exactly sure what to do in return, so he just bowed as well.

"_Anata wa chūshoku o nogashita. Chūgoku-Nii wa kore o motte kuru tame ni watashi ni tazuneta,_" Japan spoke in rapid Japanese, then handed him a plastic container. It was warm to the touch, as it smelled awesome.

"Thank you," Germany said, then wondered if Japan could understand him. Japan gave a small nod, and then pointed to Germany's feet. With a jolt of surprise, Germany realized he was still wearing his Scooby-Doo slippers.

"_Watashi wa anata no surippa ga sukidesu_," Japan said, and then gave a small smile, as if to give a message.

"You like them? Oh, thanks. Prussia got them for me," Germany answered, then stomped his left foot so he could see them light up. That also earned a smile from Japan.

"_Watashi mo, surippa o motte iru_," Japan said, pointing to his feet. Germany looked, seeing that Japan was wearing bright yellow Pikachu slippers. The little nation jumped, and when he landed on his feet, the slippers lit up and exclaimed "_pika, pika_!"

"You got the talking ones? That's so cool!" Germany exclaimed. "I wanted ones that talked, too, but Prussia wouldn't let me get them. I guess he thought the noise would annoy him or something, so I only got the light-up ones"

Germany stopped his rambling when he remembered that the little nation couldn't understand him. But Japan only smiled and nodded, as if he understood what he was trying to tell him completely. This kid must be good at reading moods.

"Well, anyway, thank you for the food," Germany said. "And tell China I said thanks". _He can't understand you, stupid_! A little voice in Germany's head snapped, and Germany cursed himself internally.

"_Dō itashimashite. Oyasuminasai_," Japan said, and Germany closed the door as the little nation turned and walked away. Germany wondered if he should wake Prussia up to eat, after all it did smell nice. But was there really enough to share . . . ?

Nah, Germany was going to just let the poor guy sleep.

* * *

_**Well, in some ways, I guess Germany is beginning to seem more like both a child and an adult. I was just WAITING to throw chibi Japan back in the picture. I don't know why, but I just love writing about him! :3 **_

_**Did you catch the Spongebob reference in this chapter? Careful, it's hard. ;)**_

_**Here is what Japan says, in order (Google translate is all fucked up, don't trust it): **_

_**1). Hi, Germany-San**_

_**2). You weren't at lunch. China-Nii asked me to bring you this. **_

_**3). I like your slippers. **_

_**4). I have slippers, too. **_

_**Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed!**_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Well, I'm on an updating roll. But I had to write this chapter, I had the best bit of inspiration. Well, not exactly 'inspiration', I just came up with it randomly after someone mentioned doing this when they were little. That last sentence probably doesn't make any sense to you, but it will later. **_

_**~ * ~ * 7 ~ * ~ ***_

"_Stupid brat," a_ _voice Germany hardly recognized said in the midst of the total darkness, it was a shadow of what could be a man, or maybe a devil, both were a possibility. Even though Germany couldn't see the details of his face, he knew he was sneering, scowling at him. _

"_Whatever happened to Holy Rome? This kid's not half as good as he was," another voice added. Germany felt sweat bead down the back of his neck as a circle of shadows surrounded him, glaring at him from above him. _

"_Out of all the possible choices―Holy Rome, Prussia, Saxony, Germania―we end up with this pathetic brat?" a third voice sneered down at him. "He's only a child! The kid can't even _fight_" _

"_S-Stop it!" Germany shouted, but cringed right after the words left his mouth. As soon as the shadows acknowledged his existence, they began to laugh, a loud mocking laughter that made the poor boy want to cry. _

"_He wants us to stop it!"_

"_What a baby!" _

"_Is he going to cry like the spoiled brat he is? He looks like he's going to cry!" _

"_Go on, whine, you little nuisance. It's the only thing you're good at!"_

"_This kid's never going to be as good as Holy Rome!"_

"_I don't know who that is!" Germany exclaimed, and he hadn't realized that he had started crying. "But I'm just as good as he is! You haven't even let me prove myself yet!" _

_His second outburst only made the shadows laugh harder, mockingly louder, to a point where the poor boy was practically sobbing. Couldn't they just leave him alone? He hadn't had a chance to be better than whoever came before him. Couldn't they see that he needed time? _

"_The little baby's _crying_!" one of the voices mocked. _

"_He's not even strong enough to keep from crying!" a voice laughed. _

"_He'll never be good enough to be country," a voice sneered, leaning down close to his face, and Germany felt his breath right in his ear. "I don't see why somebody won't just kill him already" _

Germany darted upright in his bed, clutching his covers. His movement had been so abrupt; all three of his puppies fell right out of his bed. The little nation flicked on the light; glancing around to make sure he was in his room.

There was his desk, his bedside table, his toy box, and his dresser. This was his room, this was his home, and he was safe. Nobody was going to hurt him.

Germany felt his face with his palm, and felt watery tears spilling down his cheeks. He wiped his eyes on his covers, sniffling a little bit. He'd had this dream a few times, being mocked and laughed at and criticized by people with faces he couldn't see. But it had never been so intense that it made him cry outside of his dreams.

He tried to wrap himself up in his covers, but it didn't work. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see those shadows; hear their voices laughing at him. He hadn't _done_ anything, he couldn't think of a single reason for them to be mocking him in the first place. But logic and nightmares are two things that don't work together.

Germany put on his Scooby-Doo slippers, walking over to the door. Swallowing his pride, the chibi nation walked over to Prussia's room. Lucky for him, the door wasn't locked. Then again, it was around 2:00 in the morning.

"_Prussia_?" Germany hissed, poking the albino in the shoulder. The nation was out cold.

"Prussia?" he asked a little louder. "Are you awake?" _Obviously not_.

"Prussia?" Germany shook him lightly by the shoulder, and then rolled his eyes and asked. "Who's awesome?"

"_I am_!" Prussia exclaimed immediately, darting upwards in his bed. When he realized he was woken up at such an early hour, he turned to see Germany sitting on his bed. "West? What are you doing up? It's," he glanced at his clock. "2:15 in the morning"

"I . . ." Germany's face turned crimson red, and he looked to the floor. "I had a nightmare"

"What? You had a―_awwww_," Prussia smirked, pinching his little brother's cheeks. "You had a whittle nightmare! Is whittle Germa-Chan scared―wait!" Prussia stopped himself as Germany jumped off his bed and headed to the door. "It's ok to be a little scared, Germany, but it was just a dream. It's not real"

Germany's face turned the color of fresh cherries as he crossed his arms, looking at the ground. "C-Can I stay with you?"

Prussia gave a tiny smile, moving over to the left and patting his bed. "I've got room"

* * *

Italy had, surprisingly, woken up early that morning. He'd actually gotten up in time to enjoy breakfast with Hungary, she usually had to make him a plate, eat her own breakfast, and then wait for him to wake up (and given Italy's usual laziness, that was usually around noon).

So for the first time, Italy enjoyed his breakfast without having to reheat it in the microwave. He finished quickly, and then glanced at the oven clock. It was around 8:30 and he was dressed, fed, and his teeth were brushed. Germany would be proud.

After an hour of watching Scooby-Doo and a few other cartoons, it was around 9:00. Italy climbed to his feet and walked over to the study, where Hungary was writing a letter to someone. Italy wasn't sure, but he was guessing it was someone important.

"Nee-Chan, can I go see if Germany-Kun can play?" Italy asked, giving his sweetest possible smile.

"Oh, sure, sweetie," Hungary said, looking up from her letter for a small second to smile at the Italian. "Just be back by noon so you can eat lunch"

Lunch was another thing he hardly got to have (as he usually had breakfast at noon, a few snacks in between, and then went straight to eating dinner), but Italy didn't care much at the moment. He skipped over to Germany's house (which was only around the block) and then knocked on the door.

After ten minutes of repetitive knocking, Italy guessed Germany wasn't up yet. He smiled to himself, Germany would be _extra_ proud of him now, waking up earlier than him and getting to wake him up.

_It's a good thing I know where they keep their spare key_, Italy thought, grabbing the key from under the welcome mat. Hearing the lock click, Italy entered the house and then made a beeline for Germany's room.

"Good morning, Germany-Kun~!" Italy exclaimed, bursting in. The little Italian blinked in surprise; the sheets in his bed were messed up, a couple of his puppies were still on his bed, and his Scooby-Doo slippers were missing. But Germany wasn't there.

Italy glanced down the hallway. They couldn't have left, considering the fact that Prussia's car was still in the driveway. And Germany wouldn't have gone to sleep in Prussia's room, would he?

Italy shrugged, and decided to consider every possibly option as he walked over to Prussia's room. He tiptoed over to Prussia's bed, and then covered his mouth to hide his surprise. Germany was clutching to his older brother as if his life depended on it, hugging him as if he honestly believed that he could keep him safe from nightmares or whatever scared him. Italy smiled a little to himself, Germany really did have a soft side.

"Germany-Kun~," Italy said, poking Germany in the shoulder. The little nation darted awake, as if he was sleep on edge the entire night.

"Italy?" Germany exclaimed, his cheeks tinting a light shade of pink. "What are you doing here? How are you in my house?"

"I know where you keep the spare key," Italy smiled innocently. "Do you want to go play? We can head over to China-Kun and Britain-Kun and France-Kun's houses, too, to see if the others can play"

"Yeah, sure, just let me get dressed," Germany said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Hey―Italy? What happened to your dress?"

"My dress?" Italy asked, and then smiled. He was hoping that Germany would notice. He was wearing his little bandana, but he had traded in his green dress for a pair of brown pants. He rocked back on his heels, enjoying the feeling of freedom. "I stopped wearing it. Do you like my new pants?"

"They're, uh, nice, I guess," Germany said, looking a bit surprised. "But why did you stop wearing your dress?"

"It's like you said, Germany-Kun," Italy gave a big smile. "Boys don't exactly wear dresses, do they?"

* * *

_**Aw, Italy looks up to Germany. This is the part of the story where they start to, slightly, connect, from here on out. But this story is still going to be a random collection of randomness. :3**_

_**Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate if you reviewed!**_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Even though I'm late with this: HAPPY SEASON FIVE, EVERYONE! I saw it with subtitles on YouTube, and I have to say, it did not disappoint! They all look so shiny . . . :3 The new animation's going to take some time to get used to, but I still love it! Especially Italy's little dance during the end theme. **_

_**~ * ~ * 8 ~ * ~ * **_

"Ve~!" Italy exclaimed, jumping up in the air. He seemed to enjoy his new freedom of jumping, since he didn't need to worry about his skirt flaring up anymore. "This is going to be so much fun, Germany-Kun!"

"What exactly are we doing?" Germany asked, holding up his flashlight. Prussia, along with Britain, France, Hungary, China, Spain, and all of their younger siblings were waiting in China's backyard.

"You know nothing of what you are talking about! You should let me do the talking, little blonde chibi one," India, one of Britain's siblings, said. The chibi nation turned to Italy with a dramatic flip of his dark hair. "What exactly are we doing _here_, Ita-Chan?"

"Didn't I just say―?" Germany started.

"No! You did not say 'here', Germany-Kun, so it was improper grammar," India exclaimed, flaring out his hands in weird motions in Germany's face. "This is why you should all let me do the talking, so you don't embarrass yourself with stupid comments!"

Germany raised an eyebrow, but decided not to question India's logic. Italy stayed quiet for a few seconds, trying to piece together what India had said. Five minutes later, Italy laughed and clapped his hands together.

"Ha-ha-ha, he just called you stupid, Germany-Kun!" Italy laughed, clapping his hands.

"Did he, now?" Germany grumbled.

"You are no longer the only one to be called 'stupid', Germany-Kun," India gave Italy a weird look, taking a step back and hiding behind Britain's leg. Germany guessed that he didn't want to catch the stupid.

"So what are we doing, Ita-Chan?" Spain asked, ruffling Romano's hair ("stop that, you bastard! Chicks dig my hair; I don't need you screwing it up!" Romano exclaimed).

"Ve~, it's a Scavenger Hunt in the woods!" Italy smiled. "It's more fun because it's nighttime. The whole idea is to get to the center of the woods and grab one of the things there"

"We're going in the woods at _night_? Italy, are you _crazy_?" America exclaimed. "There are ghosts out there! Not to mention Slender Man!"

"What the fuck is a Slender Man?" Romano asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not afraid; Slender Man has no power against my superior mind and awesomeness!" India exclaimed happily. "You can _try_ to get me, you faceless weirdo! You can _try_!"

"Don't provoke him!" America exclaimed, waving around his flashlight. "He'll eat your soul!"

"How? He doesn't have a mouth" Canada said. "Not to mention he doesn't have eyes, so wouldn't he just be stumbling around the woods trying to find innocent kids?"

"Ha! He doesn't have a face! Loser!" Romano laughed.

"Don't mock Slender Man, the poor guy has it bad enough already," France said, lightly tapping Romano's head. "The face is the best part of the body"

"It's not the best part of your body," Britain smirked.

"_You want some ice for that burn_?!" America exclaimed, laughing.

"You're all getting off topic," a teenager named Russia said, who'd come because his older sister, Ukraine, was invited. "Are we going out there in partners, Ita-Chan?"

"Yeah, I guess you guys can pick your own partners," Italy smiled.

"I want to go with Nii―" Belarus started.

"I want to go with China," Russia exclaimed, latching onto the Asian nation's arm. China gave him a weird look, but didn't bother trying to get him off, considering the fact that Russia had a very murderous air to him.

"No fair! I want to go with China!" France snapped, grabbing China's other arm and yanking on it.

"I'm going with America, da-ze!" South Korea said, after seeing that China was no longer an option.

"Now, wait a minute," Canada said, his voice a slightly louder whisper than it used to be. "M-maybe I want to go with America"

"Ha, that's funny, da-ze," Korea smiled, jerking America by his arm. "You shouldn't joke like that, Canada, especially since _I'm_ his best friend"

"_I'm_ his brother! We're twins!" Canada grabbed America's other arm and jerked it towards him. "If anything, I deserve being his partner! Go find one of your own brothers"

"_Let go_!" Korea exclaimed, jerking America towards him, causing a chain reaction of pulling America towards each other.

"As long as we're going by family, I guess this means I'm with you," India said, turning to Australia. The chibi nation's eyes darted from side to side, a little bead of sweat going down the side of his face.

"W-well . . ." Australia said, twiddling his thumbs.

"_How dare you not want to be partners with me_!" India exclaimed, waving his arms around in anger.

"I kind of wanted to go with New Zealand," Australia gave a nervous smile. "Sorry, mate"

"_Fuck you_!" India exclaimed.

"Alright, calm down, everyone," Italy sighed. "I'll pick the partners. Um . . . China can go with Russia, France with England, Canada with Korea, Prussia and Hungary, Vietnam and Taiwan, Thailand and Hong Kong, America and Belarus, India and New Zealand―"

"I wanna go with Ukraine!" Romano exclaimed, latching onto her leg with little hearts in his eyes.

"Ok, then I'll go with Germany-Kun, and Australia, Japan, and Spain can be the only group of three," Italy smiled.

"_Oh, no, no, no!_" Romano said, letting go of Ukraine's leg. "There's no way I'm letting you go with the potato bastard! I'll go with you; Potato-bastard can go with sushi-bastard, and koala-bastard, tomato-bastard, and Ukraine can be a group of three"

"How come she gets called her name?" Spain muttered.

* * *

Walking into the forest was pretty awkward, considering that Japan couldn't speak English. Halfway through the woods, about fifteen minutes had gone by and neither of them had said a thing.

"How much farther do you think we need to go?" Germany asked. Japan gave him a confused look, and Germany reminded himself with a pang that he couldn't understand his language. This could be harder than previously thought.

"Ok, how do I put this?" Germany sighed. "Do you even know what we're doing?"

No response; Japan only gave him a blank look.

"Of course you don't. Ok, we're," he pointed to himself, and then to Japan. "Going to the center of the forest, ok? Out there," he pointed forward. "And we have to get there before any of the other teams. Got it?"

"_Doitsu-San_!" Japan exclaimed, just the ground seemed to disappear under Germany's feet and he tumbled forward. He didn't know how long it took to hit the bottom, but before he knew it, he landed on his ass at the bottom of a hole. And damn it _hurt_.

"Ack!" Germany exclaimed, whipping dirt off his face. His back hurt like hell.

"_Doitsu-San_! _Anata wa daijōbudesuka_!" Japan shouted down. Germany guessed that he was asking if he was ok.

"I'm fine! Just a little bruised!" Germany shouted. "Go find the others, get help!"

"_Hai_!" Japan exclaimed, turning and running off. Germany nodded, then realized his mistake and slapped himself in the forehead.

Japan couldn't speak English. Even if he found someone, they wouldn't know what the hell he was talking about. And Japan wouldn't understand them if they didn't get it, so it would just be endless confusion.

Fuck.

* * *

"How much farther?" Romano whined, rolling his eyes. Italy skipped ahead, smiling and laughing to himself.

"Not much farther―" Italy started, but was interrupted in midsentence.

"_Itaria-kun_!_ Romāno-kun_!"

Japan burst out of the bushes, followed by America, Belarus, South Korea, India, Australia, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Thailand, Canada, New Zealand, and Vietnam. The others were panting as if they had a lot of trouble keeping up with Japan.

"Japan? What're you guys doing together?" Italy asked.

"_Sore wa Doitsu-san no_! _Kare ga ana kara ochi, kare wa tachiōjō shite iru! Wareware wa kare o soto ni tori ni iku hitsuyō ga arimasu_!" Japan exclaimed, waving his arms around.

"What'd the sushi bastard say?" Romano asked, raising his eyebrow.

"Can you repeat that?" America panted.

"_Doitsu-san ga komatte iru no wa, kare wa tasuke o hitsuyō to shite imasu_!" Japan exclaimed.

India then grabbed Japan by the shoulders, and then shook him back and forth. "_English_! Speak _English_!"

"_Watashi wa Doitsu-san ga hitsuyōdearu koto o itte iru_―!" Japan started.

"English!" India repeated.

"_Watashi wa_―!" Japan started.

"English!"

"_Wa_―"

"English!"

"_I can't speak English_!" Japan snapped, shoving India off him. "_Get that through your head, you idiot_!"

India's eyes were wide, as were everyone watching him. Japan panted, and then his eyes went wide as he glanced over his shoulder.

"Did the sushi bastard just speak English?" Romano asked.

"No―I mean, _īe_?" Japan offered, but the curtain had already risen. The act was over.

"For the record, I take full credit for Japan-Kun magically learning English," India said, smiling and crossing his arms.

"Ugh! That doesn't matter!" Japan exclaimed, stomping his foot in frustration. None of the young nations had ever seen him show the least bit of emotion, this was surprising. "Germany-San fell down a hole back there, he's in trouble and he needs help! Follow me!"

The young nations raced through the forest, stopping when Japan found the big hole that Germany fell in.

"Germany-San, Are you alright?!" Japan exclaimed.

"Yeah, I'm f―wait, how are you speaking English?" Germany asked.

"It's a long story," Japan said, glancing around. "Is there anything that could be used as a rope?"

"I've got rope," Australia said, and when everyone gave him a puzzled look, he added. "What? You guys don't carry around rope?"

"Don't question it!" America exclaimed, as Australia threw the rope over the side of the hole. Germany grabbed the end, as the chibi nations worked to haul him back onto the safety of the ground.

"_Germany-Kun~_!" Italy exclaimed, throwing his arms around Germany and hugging him tightly. "I was so worried; I thought you were going to die down there all alone! But of course you weren't afraid; you're the bravest person on Earth!"

"_Ja_, thanks," Germany said, lightly pushing Italy off him. "Japan, if you could speak English all this time, why did you pretend not to?"

"Easy," Japan said. "People don't bother you if they think you can't speak their language"

* * *

_**Sneaky Japan. Anyway, here is what Japan says in order:**_

_**1). Germany-San!**_

_**2). Germany-San, are you ok?**_

_**3). It's Germany-San! He fell down a hole and he's stuck! We need to go get him out!**_

_**4). Germany-San's in trouble, he needs help!**_

_**5). I'm saying that Germany-san needs**_―!

_**And 'watashi wa' is like the Japanese word for 'I', and 'ka' usually acts like a '?' in sentences. A little lesson in Japanese for you. **_

_**I know Australia, India, and New Zealand are not official characters. But since they're British colonies, so I figured they deserved an appearance. **_

_**By the way, America and Belarus got partnered up because I'm an AmeBel fan. :3 It all begins with a single step . . . **_

_**Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed!**_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!* **_


	9. Chapter 9

**_ You know who I would feel sorry for? Spain. If Hetalia included the Central and South American countries, Spain would have around seventeen little brothers and sisters. Ever wonder why they all speak Spanish (minus Brazil, Guyana, Cayenne, and Guiana)? I mean, if Hidekaz Himaruya-Sama created little Chibi Central / South American countries, Spain would be screwed._**

**_ And since I can be a jackass to certain characters, I'm doing just that. :3 I know the only official one would be Cuba, so I've got a bit of planning to do. I'm excited about Mexico, and whatever his relationship would be with America. _**

**_ I don't own Hetalia. _**

**_~ * ~ * 9 ~ * ~ *_**

"_Ger-Ma-Ny-Chaaaaannnn_!" Prussia called up the stairs, giving a smile that his brother couldn't see. "I got Chinese food~!"

"Nice," Germany said, grabbing his puppy's leashes and whistling. "I'm going to go take Black, Red, and Gold out on a walk, ok? I'll be back in about ten minutes"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Prussia set, setting out plates and silverware. "It's raining pretty hard out there"

"I'll be fine," Germany opened the front door, but was met by none other than a grumpy, soaking wet Chibi boy.

"_Romano_?!" Germany exclaimed, all three of his puppies growling in disgust. Gold even went as far as to bite his pants (not his leg, his teeth weren't strong enough for that).

"Get your stupid mutt off my clothes, bastard!" Romano exclaimed, shaking the dog off him.

"Romano, what are you doing here? It's pouring rain," Germany said.

"Oh, really?" Romano scoffed, blowing a lock of brown hair off his forehead. "I didn't notice"

"Come in," Germany sighed, gesturing for him to enter the house and closing the door behind him. "And wipe your―" Romano walked straight into his house, tracking mud and water behind him and went straight to the kitchen. "—feet"

"What the fuck?" Prussia raised an eyebrow at the soaking wet Chibi nation. "Aren't you Spain's little brother?"

"Not anymore," Romano grabbed the container of rice, a spoon, and helped himself to all the food he wanted. "Ex-little brother; I ran away and I'm never going back"

"I was wondering how long it would take for you to snap," Prussia said, acting as if this was completely normal. "Ger-Chan, come eat dinner with your new brother"

"You can't just declare him as your brother!" Germany exclaimed.

"You want a Crab Cake, Roma-Chan?" Prussia offered.

"Yes, Onii-Chan," Romano said.

"See, Germany? Why can't you call me 'Onii-Chan', like your brother?" Prussia said.

"He's not my brother!" Germany exclaimed.

"You should be nice to me, I'm your brother, now" Romano said, sticking a spoonful of rice in his mouth.

"This is crazy!" Germany exclaimed. "Why did you run away from home in the first place?"

"Because Spain's got some new fucking favorites from hell and he doesn't give a shit about me" Romano pouted.

"Fuck Spain! I'll be your big brother," Prussia exclaimed, hugging Romano.

"Thanks, Onii-Chan," Romano said.

"You're missing the point!" Germany exclaimed. "What do you mean he's got new favorites? Did he find a new soccer team or something?"

"No, you moron, he found other colonies," Romano growled. "He just found this kid named Mexico. The little bitch isn't good for anything but Spain seems to think he's the best damn thing in the world"

"I don't think he forgot about you," Germany said, grabbing the phone. "I bet Spain's worried sick about y—"

"No!" Prussia exclaimed, knocking the phone out of his hands and making the phone break into two pieces on the floor. "He's our brother now, Germany! Don't call up Mr. Dead-To-Us!"

"Prussia, Spain-San doesn't know he's here! This is kidnapping!" Germany exclaimed, quickly snatching Prussia's cellphone off the counter (Prussia wouldn't dare break that). "We have to call Spain!"

"Oh, I get it! You're jealous!" Prussia laughed, pinching his cheek.

"You think I'm what?!" Germany exclaimed.

"You think that I'm not going to have any time for you now that you have another brother," Prussia hugged his brother, who was struggling to get him off him. "That's adorable! Of course I'll still have time for my little Ger-Chan!"

"That has nothing to do with anything!" Germany exclaimed. "You technically just kidnapped a colony! We have to return him, it's against the law!"

"Law, schmaw," Prussia rolled his eyes. "Just accept your brother"

"Yeah, just accept m—" Romano started.

"Hello, _Spanien_?" Germany said with Prussia's cellphone to his ear. "Yeah, he's here"

* * *

"I don't wanna go back to Spain," Romano grumbled. "I wanna stay here with Onii-Chan"

"He's not you brother, Romano, for the billionth time," Germany exclaimed, rolling his eyes.

"You are officially my least favorite brother," Romano snapped.

"I'm gonna miss my Roma-Chan," Prussia said, sighing sadly. "You've been here so long; you're already a part of the family"

"He's been here for an hour!" Germany exclaimed. "Not even, it's been 45 minutes!"

"45 minutes that I'm never going to forget! Ever!" Prussia exclaimed, hugging Romano, the two have a mini-sob party on the couch.

At that moment, the doorbell rang. Germany ran to answer it, considering Prussia and Romano weren't going to stop crying any time soon. Germany opened the door, seeing a Chibi boy in a yellow rain parka standing on the porch.

Given, the boy did look a lot more like Spain than Romano did. He had black hair that framed his tan face and a pair of the biggest brown eyes Germany had ever seen on a person. He smiled at Germany, taking his hood back.

"Hey, I'm here to pick up Roma―" the boy stared.

"_YOU_!" Romano exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at the boy. "How _dare_ you show your face around here, you _puta_!"

"Uh . . . I-I'm sorry . . .?" the boy said. "But you have to come home, Onii-Chan's worried sick about you"

"Don't you call him Onii-Chan! He's _not_ your Onii-Chan!" Romano exclaimed.

"But―" the boy started.

"He's _not_!" Romano snapped.

"Just listen―"

"_Not. Your. Onii-Chan._"

"If he's not my Onii-Chan, then who's big brother is he?"

"_Mine_! Spain's _my_ Onii-Chan, and _not _yours, Mexico! So fuck off!"

"Are you jealous, Roma-Nii?" Mexico asked.

"I AM NOT JEALOUS―did you just call me 'Roma-Nii'?" Romano started. "Did you added 'Nii' on my name, as in 'Nii-Chan' and 'Onii-Chan'?"

"Yeah, you're my big brother, too" Mexico said.

Romano turned around, scoffing happily and smiling at Germany and Prussia. "I'm a big brother"

Germany gave a small smile. "Yeah, you've been Italy's big brother since he was b―"

"Ah, yes," Romano wrapped an arm around Mexico's shoulders and gave it a small squeeze. "Finally, I have someone to share my knowledge with, and pass on all of my experience; a little apprentice to take under my wing."

"Oh, God, no," Germany sighed.

"Come on, Mexico, walk home with Onii-Chan," Romano said, closing the door behind him and acting as if he was suddenly a twenty-one year old guardian. Prussia smiled, pinching Germany's cheeks.

"See? It's ok to be a little jealous when other kids steal your Onii-Chan," Prussia said in a mocking baby voice.

"Don't you have somewhere to be drunk?"

* * *

**_And on that kind note from Germany, that's the end of this chapter. Kind of quick-ending, shortly written, and in the end, Romano was OOC . . . . Wow, I let myself down with chapter . . . . _**

**_Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed!_**

**_Aye, Sir!, _**

**_Ninja_**

**_*BAGPIPES EXIT!*_**


	10. Chapter 10

_**I had some trouble uploading this chapter. Sorry! **_

_**This chapter was requested by ncalkins, so if you like it, thank them. Enjoy!**_

_**~ * ~ * 10 ~ * ~* **_

"Incoming!"

Romano grunted in annoyance, and he turned to yell at someone to stop shouting, only to get hit full in the face with a soccer ball. His eyebrow twitched in pure annoyance, and he clenched his teeth together.

"Hey, Tomato-Bastard, I'm hungry―" Romano started, but he noticed with a pang that Spain was pretty busy at the moment. He had a couple of chibi nations clinging to his legs, his shoulders, and he was holding one in each arm. Columbia was chewing on his hair while Costa Rica was basically trying to eat his pants.

"My pants aren't edible, Costa!" Spain exclaimed, setting Costa Rica on his chair at the table. He then ruffled Argentina's hair as he set the chibi boy in his own chair, but the little blonde boy simply fixed his hair back to its former neatness.

"Argentinians," Brazil muttered, rolling his eyes.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, you _hijo de perra_!" Argentina snapped, glaring at the chibi boy.

"Nothing, _babaca_," Brazil gave a smile, acting as if hadn't said anything in the first place.

"Don't insult me in another language!" Argentina exclaimed, grabbing the curl on top of Brazil's head and tugging it.

"I'll insult you in whatever language I want!" Brazil snapped, grabbing the curl on Argentina's head and yanking it.

"Hey, Spain," Romano yanked on the cuff of Spain's pants. "Can I talk to you?"

"Huh? Oh, sure, Roma-Chan," Spain got down to sit on the balls of his feet, looking the chibi nation in the eye. "What's on your mind?"

"Well, I―" Romano started.

"_Ow_! Onii-Chan, he's hurting me and calling me names!" Argentina exclaimed, interrupting Romano in mid-sentence.

"You started it!" Brazil snapped. "_Você é um bastardo e você não pode jogar futebol!_"

"He's insulting me in that freak language again!" Argentina yelled. "Make him stop!"

"_Brazil_! You taught you to use that kind of language!" Spain exclaimed.

"I didn't curse, Onii-Chan," Brazil said.

"No, I'm not talking about _that_ kind of language; I'm talking about _that_ language" Spain said. "Why aren't you speaking Spanish?"

"Oh, Portugal-Kun taught me how to speak his language―" Brazil started.

"_Don't you listen to a thing Portugal says_!" Spain exclaimed, grabbing the chibi nation by the shoulders and shaking him back and forth. "He's a _puta_ and he doesn't know anything! You're going to learn Spanish, ok?! _Spanish_!"

"But Portugal-Kun says―"

"Spanish, dammit, _Spanish_!"

"Ok, ok, I'll try to learn Spanish"

"Good, now do you want to play _futebol _in the backyard?"

"_Sim, irmão_"

"_What did I tell you about speaking Portuguese_?!"

"_Desculpe_"

"BRAZIL!"

Romano grunted in annoyance, and then tugged on the hem of Spain's shirt for a second time. "Spain, I was _trying_ to talk to you"

"I'm sorry, Roma-Kun, what was it you wanted to ask me?" Spain asked, smiling at his first colony.

"What I was trying to say is that you―" Romano tried to pick up his talking speed, but was interrupted by yet another chibi voice.

"Onii-Chan, Panama's flooded the bathroom _again_!" Venezuela exclaimed.

"He's done _what now_?" Spain exclaimed. Panama was used to being around rivers and having his life centered around canals. As a result, he had a nasty habit of overflowing the bathtub and filling up the entire bathroom with water so he could feel like he was near a river.

"Oh, that's just _awesome_," Spain growled, seeing water leak under the bathroom door. "Panama, open up!"

"I can't," Panama responded. "I'm making a river. Come back in six weeks"

"I've got it," Brazil said, taking a pin out of Argentina's hair ("Do you know how long it took to make my hair look this awesome, you bastard?!" he exclaimed). The little nation stuck the pin in the lock, and there was a little _click_ sound as the door unlocked. Spain opened the door, only to be greeted by a rush of water.

"You've ruined my canal," Panama sighed from his place on the sink. Spain waddled through the water, turning off the bathtub and opening the drain, and then taking up Panama in his arms.

"For the billionth time, Panama, you can't make a river out of a bathtub! You're going to flood the house" Spain grunted, mopping up the floor.

"That was the point," Panama said. "It was going to be a house-river"

"Go play _futebol_," Spain said, setting Panama on the ground. Spain turned, seeing a very annoyed Romano glaring at him with his arms crossed. He was even tapping his foot; that was a sure sign that Romano was pissed.

"I'm sorry, Roma-Chan, I'm sorry" Spain said, getting down on his knees. "I'm listening to you, I swear I am"

"Ok," Romano glanced around the make sure no one was going to interrupt him, and then began to talk at top speed. "I was trying to say that you hardly have any time for m―"

"Mexico, what are you doing?" Spain asked, glancing over Romano's shoulder.

Mexico was holding a candle and was wearing a black cloak, not to mention sitting on his knees in the middle of what looked like one of Britain's magic circles. "Summoning the devil"

Spain stared at the little boy for a moment, then exclaimed wildly. "That's so _cute_! Look at you in your little cloak! Oh, I bet the devil will come right to you, he won't be able to resist your adorableness!"

Romano's jaw dropped at his guardian's stupidity. Well, he knew that Spain found the weirdest things cute (like when he constantly called him a bastard), but that was only for when _Romano_ did things that could be considered weird and / or rude. Not some other colony!

His fists clenched as he watched Spain fawn over that stupid little _Mexico_, who basically ignored him and proceeded to try to summon Satan. Why the hell would Spain freak out over him when he didn't even _care_? The little bastard.

Romano jumped to his feet, grabbed Spain's wallet, and walked right out the door and into the pouring rain. It was time to run away and never come back.

* * *

"_Holy fucking shit, where's Romano_?!"

Spain ran around the room, counting the multiple chibi heads around the room only to painfully discover multiple times that he was one colony short. As he frantically looked around the room, he noticed that he couldn't see Romano's distinctive curl anywhere in the house.

"Romano, are you here?" Spain exclaimed; opening multiple closet doors and searching under couch cushions. "Romano? Romano? Romano?"

"He's not going to be under the couch cushions," Columbia raised an eyebrow.

"Well, don't just stand there! Help me find your brother!" Spain exclaimed, and then snapped. "Kitchen; there's food in the kitchen! Romano will definitely be there!"

Spain began to check all of the cabinets, opening the door to the pantry, the fridge, and even underneath the oven. "_Niños_, have any of you found him?"

"_No_!"

"_No_!"

"_Não_!"

"Brazil, speak Spanish!"

"God, where the hell is he?!" Spain exclaimed, rushing around the entire house. He opened every door, glancing around and checking through every nook and cranny of each room to make sure Romano wasn't hiding anywhere. "If I don't find him in the next ten minutes, I'm calling the police―"

At that very moment, Spain's cellphone rang. He grabbed it immediately, the first thing he asked being. "Yeah, yeah, _hola_, is Romano there?"

"Yeah," a German accent on the other end of the line said. "He's here"

* * *

"Don't you _ever_ run off like that _again_, do you hear me, Roma-Chan?" Spain exclaimed, hugging his little brother tightly. "I was worried sick about you!"

"You didn't notice me when I was here," Romano grumbled.

"What?" Spain asked.

"That's what I was trying to tell you!" Romano exclaimed. "I―!"

"Onii-Chan, can you read us a bedtime story?" Nicaragua asked, poking his head into the room. Before Spain could even answer the little chibi nation's question, Romano jumped to his feet, pointing an accusing finger at the little nation and screamed at the top of his lungs.

"I'M TRYING TO TALK TO HIM, YOU LITTLE SHIT! YOU BRATS HAVE INTERUPTED ME ALL DAY, AT LEAST LET ME TALK TO HIM _ONCE_! NOW GO BACK TO YOUR ROOM AND READ YOURSELF A GODDAMNED BETDTIME STORY AND LET ME TALK TO MY BIG BROTHER IN PRIVACY!"

Nicaragua's eyes were the size of dinner plates as he clutched onto his book, turned on his heels, and ran out of the room faster than the speed of sound. Romano was panting as he sat down on the couch next to Spain; his little hand's clenched into fists.

"_Romano_," Spain breathed.

"You haven't given a single fuck about me all day," Romano grunted.

"It's just busier now that I've got all these other colonies to take care of, too," Spain said. "Don't you like having brothers and sisters?"

"No," Romano hissed. "You used to only pay attention to _me_. Now these motherfuckers are getting in the way"

"You―you're _jealous_?" Spain exclaimed, and then hugged Romano tightly. "That's so cute! You're jealous because you're not the only thing on my mind anymore! That's _adorable_! I'll always have time for you, Roma-Chan!"

"Let go of me! I―" Romano stopped before he could say anything. He couldn't say he didn't want his attention, he practically just admitted that he did. But he still wasn't going to admit he wanted his attention. So he simply jumped off the couch and headed back to his bedroom.

"I . . . Is he gone?" Nicaragua asked, poking his head back in the room.

"_Sí_," Spain smiled. Well, now all the others kids were terrified of Romano. That could be a good or bad thing.

"Can you read us a bedtime story now?" Nicaragua asked. "But quietly, please, I don't want Romano to hear"

* * *

_**Well, that escalated quickly. Just so you know, ncalkins requested a chaper where Spain realized that Romano was missing and freaked out. It just sort of turned into this. **_

_**Ok, so I come from a Brazilian-American family, so my views on South and Central American stereotypes are pretty mixed. But if there's one thing that comes from my Brazilian side, it's the Brazilian-Argentinian rivalry. **_

_**For whatever reason, Brazilians and Argentinians absolutely hate each other. In a car with my Brazilian family, if you so much as mention the word 'Argentina', you can hear every single one of them groan "Argentinians" in annoyance. No joke. It makes me wonder if the same thing happens in an Argentinian car if you mention the word "Brazil". **_

_**If that's not enough to convince the hatred, here's another happening. Apparently, there was a huge public soccer game going on in Brazil because Argentina was playing against Germany. Normally, if Brazil wasn't playing, Brazilians would just cheer for the South American team playing. But in this case, they were cheering for Germany. They hate Argentina with a passion. **_

_**No one really knows why, though, whenever I asked they would just mutter "Argentinians", roll their eyes, and then say they sucked. I guess it's like some kind of huge conspiracy. **_

_**The reason why Argentina seems kind of vain here is because that's the stereotype I've heard for Argentinians. I've even heard the joke "Argentinians stand outside in a thunderstorm because they think God is trying to take a picture of them". Remember what I said about hatred? **_

_**This has been a long enough Author's Note, I think. Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed!  
**_

_**Aye, Sir!,**_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


	11. Chapter 11

_**Happy Valentine's Day, everybody! I kind of hate this holiday, minus all the candy I could possibly get. But, either way, it's still a holiday so I think it deserves a chapter. **_

~ * ~ * 11 ~ * ~ *

Germany thought it was only Thursday, but the events that followed that morning easily proved him wrong.

He'd left to get the newspaper that morning to get met with a box shoved right in his face. He nearly choked on it.

"Italy―?" Germany started.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Germany-Kun!" Italy exclaimed, his face flushing the brightest shade of pink Germany had ever seen. The boy smiled nervously, his hands clasped together tightly. Germany accepted the box, but gave Italy a skeptical look.

"Happy what-now?" Germany asked.

"Valentine's Day, don't you celebrate it?" Italy asked.

"Not yet," Germany said. "I haven't even been a country for a year yet. What's this holiday about?"

"It's about celebrating . . . love," Italy said, his face turning a shade of bright red. "Between two people, you're supposed to get your loved one a gift of some kind. Or more than one gift, I guess"

"It sounds boring," Germany sighed.

"It's not!" Italy exclaimed, flaring his arms out wildly. "I swear it isn't!"

"Ok, ok, I believe you," Germany leaned back a little to avoid getting hit.

"Good," Italy smiled. "Everyone's coming over to my house for Valentine's Day, we're getting together to play and have fun. A party, I guess"

"I'll be there," Germany said, opening the box and popping a piece of chocolate in his mouth. Caramel filling, nice.

* * *

"_America-Kun_!"

Mexico latched himself onto America's arm for what could be the ninth time that afternoon. Korea rolled his eyes, putting his hands on his hips. Anyone could tell that the two were obviously planning some sort of prank, anyone but Mexico, that is.

"Him again, da-ze?" Korea muttered.

"_Me_!" Mexico exclaimed happily. "Happy Valentine's Day, America-Kun!"

"Happy Valentine's Day, Mexico," America smiled. "Can you let go of me, now?"

Mexico didn't exactly let go, or in better words, he didn't let go at all. It took a bit of America shaking his arm, a bit of yelling from South Korea, and a crowbar to get him off.

"Don't you _dare_ use a crowbar on my little brother!" Romano exclaimed, grabbing Mexico by the shoulders and yanking him backwards. He dusted off Mexico's clothes and checked the little colony over for any sort of wound.

"I'm fine, Onii-Chan," Mexico smiled a little dreamily. "America-Kun would never hurt me!"

"If he won't, I will, da-ze," Korea grunted. "Anyway, America-Kun, I say we slip an engagement ring in Belarus' drink and say it was from Russia. It'll be hilarious!"

"That totally won't crush her sanity! Let's do it!" America exclaimed, laughing and high-fiving Korea.

Germany rolled his eyes, trying to find a way to avoid all the 'love' that was currently in Italy's backyard. Of course, France and Russia were all over China, who was trying to pay attention to anything that wasn't them. Spain was fawning over every single one of his kids, and France was fawning over him fawning over his kids. Fawn-ception.

Romano was convinced that keeping Mexico safe and sound was the most important thing in the entire world. And since the other Spanish colonies were now mortally terrified of Romano, keeping Mexico safe was now the most important thing in the whole universe.

Basically, America and Korea were preparing their perfect Valentine's Day prank while Romano carried Mexico around like a baby. Nicaragua and Guatemala even held pillows in case he accidentally dropped him.

"Hon-Chan!" Spain exclaimed, running towards Honduras and gathered him up in his arms. "I just noticed something! You're curl; it's shaped like a little heart!"

"Oh," Honduras played with his heart-shaped curl, and then smiled up at his big brother. "I guess it is!"

It was clear to nearly anyone that Honduras was probably the most adorable child of all of Spain's colonies. He had dark hair that swept across his chibi face, and clips parting his hair that made a little 'X'. His eyes were light brown, like a fawn's, and his curl did make a little heart. He was giving Romano a run for his money.

"Germany-Kun~!" Italy exclaimed, running over and throwing his arms around Germany's neck for about the ninth time in the last hour.

Italy was doing a great job of making Germany feel incredibly guilty. It had only been one hour, and he'd already given him six pieces of candy, a flower he probably picked himself, and hugged him nonstop. In all fairness, he hadn't known the holiday existed, but Italy found a way to make him wish that he had bought him _something_.

"Hey, Italy," Germany mumbled.

"I got you a flower!" Italy exclaimed.

"Thank you," Germany said, looking down at the floor.

"That's _adorable_," Hungary exclaimed, hands at her face. "Ita-Chan's got a little―!" her eyes then widened, and then looked at the fence. The corners of her mouth tugged into a smile. "Hey, Stranger"

A man with dark hair, a polished suit, and violet eyes behind glasses smiled at her from the other side of the fence, and Italy nearly burst into tears. "_Papa!_"

"He's your father?" Germany asked.

"No," Prussia grumbled. "Ita-Chan just seems to think he is"

Italy hugged the man's leg tightly, and the older nation responded by giving him a pat on the head. But, then again, he seemed a bit more interested in Hungary then he was in Italy.

"Austria, I thought you were off for business?" Hungary asked, but her smile was so big it nearly broke off her face.

"I had to come back for today," Austria said, offering the woman a bouquet of some of the brightest flowers Germany had ever seen. "Happy Valentine's Day"

"_I love you_!" Hungary exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. There was a slight flinch of pain on Austria's face (it looked like she was close to breaking his spine), but he immediately smiled and returned the hug.

Germany smirked as he saw Prussia grumbling in pure annoyance. "Jealous?"

"No," Prussia grumbled.

"Sure," Germany laughed, and he was laughing a bit uncontrollably until Prussia picked him up and clamped his hand over his mouth, and walked over to one of the chairs in the back. He simply sat there, Germany in his lap, his hand clamped firmly over his mouth. And he was going to sit there until Germany learned his lesson, or until Austria died in a hole somewhere. Whichever came first.

America and Korea giggled as they slipped a fake engagement ring into a plastic cup labeled 'Belarus'. The plan was for them to casually pass out the drinks, leaving Belarus for last. Then they would wait for her to drink it, find the ring, and then freak out to Russia (they figured that knowing her mind, she'd guess Russia first).

"Here, Belarus," America smiled.

"Thanks," Belarus said, taking a gulp of the soda as soon as the cup fell in her hands. She then chocked a little, and then spat the fake engagement ring right into her palm. Her eyes were the size of dinner plates, and she screamed.

"_You want to marry me_?!" Belarus shrieked. "_O, moj Boh! I didn't even know you liked me, America_!"

"Wait, what?" America's eyes widened, turning to the girl. "N-No, you've got it all wrong―!"

"Yes! Yes, I'll marry you!" Belarus exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck.

Korea was laughing his ass off (this wasn't what he was planning, but it was probably better). Mexico and Columbia looked utterly horrified, and Russia had let go of China to glare at America. He had this air of bloody murder to him, and let's just say the pickaxe didn't help.

"R-Russia . . . –Kun?" America muttered, his eyes wide.

"Check it out, Nii-San; I'm completely over you," Belarus smirked, clutching America's arm tightly.

"Here's an easy challenge: find three things wrong with that sentence," Prussia whistled.

"If you lay a hand on my little sister, I swear I'll―" Russia started, then a firecracker fell from the roof and exploded right between America and Russia. There was a number of red, white, and pink sparks that flew into the sky. They would have been beautiful if they hadn't been so terrifying.

"_Kya-ha-ha-ha_!" Honduras laughed from the top of the roof, his face looking crazy for a split second. Then his little heart curl came back and he smiled sweetly. "Happy Valentine's Day, everybody!"

At that moment, everyone began laughing and watching the fireworks explode across the black sky. Of course, Russia didn't laugh until America fainted out of fear and overexcitement (causing both England and Belarus to freak out, while Mexico and Columbia had to yell at Belarus that being engaged to America was against the law). But in the end, both Russia and America were watching Honduras's fireworks along with everyone else.

"Hey, Italy," Germany's face was as red as the paper hearts on the wall as he offered Italy a flower (he'd snagged it from the bouquet Austria gave Hungary, but Italy didn't need to know that). "Happy Valentine's Day"

"_Grazie_, Germany!" Italy exclaimed happily, accepting the flower and clutching Germany's hand.

And it could have been an accident, but Germany found himself squeezing his hand back.

* * *

_**Sweet, huh, extremely random, but sweet, right?**_

_** One translation note, "**__O, moj Boh" is "oh, my God" in Belarusian. _

_**Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! Ok, I ship PruHun, AusHun, and PruAus. There's a chance you're going to see all three in this story. By the way, it may sound like it, but this isn't the ending. This story is still standing strong!**_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

_**Ninja**_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


	12. Chapter 12

_**I know I only posted a little while ago, but over here in the East Coast, snow is PILEING. At least, it is where I live. Basically, it's nighttime and there's at least a foot of snow out there. So I figured: what the hell?**_

_**Also, in response to deadly-dragon-princess, here are the Hetalia pairings I support: PoLiet, SuFin, AusHun, PruHun, PruAus, AmeBel, GrePan, AmeriPan, RoChu (half-way, kind of with the whole RussiaxChina thing, but I guess I sort of support it), GreecexTurkey (no idea about that couple name), and GerIta. On a side note, the only couples I really don't like are GermanyxPrussia, UsUk, LithuaniaxBelarus, and FrancexCanada. Especially UsUk. And I figured out that I don't like those pairings after writing this story and seeing that that would make England a total Pedo-Bear and that all those pairings are incestuous. **_

_**Any-Whore, let's get on with the story. :3 **_

~ * ~ * 12 ~ * ~ *

"_Ger-Chan, Ger-Chan_!"

Germany was jerked into consciousness as Prussia jumped on his bed. The albino nation jumped up and down on Germany's bed; causing him to fly upwards (he went up nearly five feet in the air, higher than he was tall) and nearly hit his head on the ceiling fan. Black, Red, and Gold yipped in fear, jumping off the bed.

"_What the hell, Prussia_?" Germany exclaimed. "Aren't you a little too old for this?!"

"It's snowing!" Prussia exclaimed, picking Germany up from under his arms and holding him upwards. Germany got a good view of the front yard, which was quite literally covered in snow.

"I can see that," Germany responded. "Can you put me down, now?"

"Get dressed, Ger-Chan!" Prussia exclaimed, happily. "We're going to have an awesome your-first-snow-day! This is going to be special!"

"Yeah, ok," Germany said, walking over to his closet. He quickly picked out a t-shirt and jeans, trying to calm down his puppies, which were still shaken because of Prussia jumping all over his bed.

"You can't go out like that!" Prussia exclaimed. "It's freezing out there, let me help you"

"I don't need your h―_mrrf_!" Germany was cut off as a scarf was shoved into his face, and he choked on a little bit of wool. Prussia put an equally fuzzy hat over his blonde hair, slipped the biggest snow jacket he'd ever seen over his arms, put mittens over his hands, and forced a pair of snow boots on his feet.

"Arw 'oo 'appy?" Germany asked through the fabric of his scarf, eating a bit of the fabric.

"You look so _adorable_!" Prussia exclaimed. "Let me get the camera, I need a picture!"

"Nowuh way!" Germany squirmed, but he couldn't exactly do anything about it when he was set on the counter. So he could only wait patiently for Prussia to get the camera and run back downstairs.

"This is so going on our Christmas cards," Prussia smirked.

"Since when did we send Christmas cards?" Germany asked, pulling his scarf off his mouth.

"Since now," Prussia said. "Now let's go play in the snow!"

Germany had to admit that he liked snow a lot more than he thought he would as soon as he left the house. It fell in flakes down to cover the ground like a white blanket, and even though there was snow, it didn't exactly feel _cold_. But maybe that was because the snow was so beautifully distracting.

Germany held out his tongue, letting a few snowflakes fall onto his tongue. He let the pieces of snow melt in his mouth before swallowing, and then held his tongue out for another one to fall on it. He probably looked like a retard standing there in the middle of his driveway with his tongue out, but he didn't really care. He didn't get to enjoy snow very much.

Then a ball of snow hit him on the back of the head and knocked his hat right off his head. Germany reached back, wiping the snow right of his blonde hair. He turned, seeing Prussia smirking at him and holding a snowball.

"Oh, it's _on_," Germany smirked, grabbing a handful of snow and patting it into a snowball. But before he could even throw it, another snowball hit in square in the chest. Germany grunted, and then chucked the snowball with all of the force in his right arm. It hit Prussia square in the face.

"You little _shit_," Prussia laughed, grabbing another handful of snow. By then, Germany had dived under the car for protection. The little chibi nation jumped up on the other side of the car, right behind Prussia, throwing snowballs at his back nonstop, one after the other.

"You're like some sort of machine gun!" Prussia exclaimed, and then grabbed his little brother up in his arms, ruffling his hair. Germany let out a yelp of surprise, but ended up laughing as his brother screwed up his hair.

"Put me down!" Germany laughed, but he didn't mean it, nor did he do anything to enforce his demand.

"Aw, this is tots cute! A little brotherly-love moment!"

Germany and Prussia looked up, stopping in mid position. Once Prussia saw who the owner of the voice was, he proceeded with screwing up Germany's hair without recognition. Germany, however, was filled with questions he wanted answers to.

For starters, he was wondering why a grown man was wearing a pink sweater with a pony on it. Following that question was 'why the hell is his hat pink?' Finally, he was wondering why he was so tightly latched onto a man who was actually dressed like a man of his age.

"'Sup, Poland?" Prussia asked, as he began to fix Germany's hair and then began holding him like a normal person.

"Nothing much," Poland said, refusing to let go of the poor dark-haired man's arm. "Snow days are just so tots oz, we just, like, had to come out, right Lithy?"

"Y-yeah," Lithuania said, looking a bit nervous.

"'Tots oz'?" Germany asked, grabbing onto Prussia's jacket and hiding his face a little bit. He wasn't normally this nervous around people, but these were full-out _strangers_, some of Prussia's friends. He had no idea how he was supposed to act around them.

"That's Hipster-Cool for 'totally awesome'," Poland said, and then smiled brightly. "And who's this, Prussia-Kun?"

"This is my little brother, Germany," Prussia said, nuzzling the top of his head like a little kid or an obsessive junior high girl. With that move, Germany completely buried his face in Prussia's jacket. Seriously, hadn't these guys ever heard of 'Stranger Danger'?

"He's so adorbs!" Poland exclaimed.

"What the fuck does 'adorbs' mean, Poland?" Prussia raised an eyebrow.

"Adorable," Lithuania exclaimed.

"Thank you, Lithy!" Poland exclaimed, clutching onto his arm for the third time.

"Uh, Poland?" Lithuania asked, shaking his arm a little bit. "I think you're cutting off the blood circulation in my arm"

"But Lithy, it's _cold_~!" Poland exclaimed, and didn't even bother to loosen his grip. Something told Germany that the weather was just an excuse for Poland to cuddle up to Lithuania.

"WHAT IS THIS?! WHATISTHISWHATISTHISWHATISTH IS?!"

Germany looked up, seeing Mexico run down the street wearing only his P.J.s. He was waving his arms around wildly, his eyes huge with wonder and amazement. He spun around in circles, opening his mouth so snowflakes could land on his tongue (truth be told, it did make you look retarded, but the kid was having fun).

"Mexico! You're going to get pneumonia!" Romano exclaimed, running after the Chibi nation. He forced a jacket onto Mexico's tiny arms, and then brushed the snow off of his face and hair.

"See, Prussia? Why can't you be a responsible big brother, like Romano?" Germany asked, smirking.

"Hear that, Me-Kun?" Romano said proudly. "I'm a better big brother than both Prussia and Spain, and I'm not even a teenager yet!"

"I didn't say you were a better big brother than Spain," Germany said, raising an eyebrow. "I just said you were better than Prussia"

"Spain was implied," Romano said, putting his hands on his hips, and then exclaimed. "Mexico! It's just snow, Mex―Mexico! You can _drown_ in snow, you know!"

In the next couple of minutes, Romano was fishing Mexico out of the snow after he dived into a pile of it headfirst, while Prussia was trying to convince Germany that he was, in fact, a better big brother than Romano.

"Whoa!" Brazil exclaimed, running out of the house. "Look at all this white stuff! _É tão bonito_!"

"Brazil, speak Spanish!" Spain snapped, putting a wool hat onto the boy's head.

"It's in my hair, it's in my hair!" Argentina exclaimed, jumping around and trying to swat the snowflakes out of his perfectly combed blonde hair. "Onii-Chan, _it's in my hair_!"

"Oh, grow a pair," Brazil said, rolling his eyes.

"A pair of what, _idiota_?" Argentina snapped. "Or are you too stupid to be specific?"

"A pair of testicles, _seu_ _paneleiro_!"

"I don't know what that means!" Argentina growled. "Learn to speak fucking Spanish, pendejo!"

"_Vou falar qualquer língua que eu quero_!" Brazil snapped.

"I can't understand you!" Argentina growled.

"That's the point, Fruit Basket," Brazil gave a rather evil smirk. "_Eu poderia estar chamando você o pior insulto agora, e você nem sequer sabe_!"

"This can go both ways, bastard," Argentina returned the evil smile. "_Yo podría ser insultante que en este momento, y usted no lo sabría, porque no va a aprender español_!"

"_Pare com isso_!" Brazil exclaimed angrily. "I'm trying to learn Spanish, you moron!"

"_Todavía no me puede entender_!" Argentina mocked.

"_Pare_!" Brazil snapped. "_Vai-te foder_!"

"_Usted mariquita_!" Argentina snapped.

"_Você é um picha_!"

"_Usted es una concha_!"

"_Vai chupar um canavial de rola_!"

"_La reputisima madre que te remil pario_!"

"_Puta que Pariu, cale-se_!"

"_Cabrear_!"

"Stop insulting each other in languages you can't understand!" Spain yelled, grabbing the two of them by the collars and hoisting them up in the air. "You two are brothers, and you're going to love each other! Now hug and make up!" He then forced the two together, which could have been either a hug or two Chibi boys squashed into each other.

Brazil and Argentina pretended to "hug", only to scoff and turn their backs on each other. Chile smiled at Argentina, brushing the flakes of snow off of his hair.

"Gracias, Chile," Argentina said.

"No problem," Chile said. In a way, Chile was the only Spanish colony who could, in a sense, "put up" with Argentina. He could talk to him without muttering something along the lines of "Argentinians".

"Germany-Kun, Germany-Kun!" Italy exclaimed. "Look at my snow angel, isn't it pretty?"

"Well . . . yeah," Germany said.

"My angel is pretty, too," Taiwan smiled, drawing designs onto the dress of her snow angel. "Right, Germany-Kun?"

"Um, _ja_," Germany said.

"Mine's gorgeous!" Thailand said. "Right, Germany-Kun?"

"_Ja_," Germany responded.

"Mine is even more gorgeous than previously thought!" India exclaimed. "And it was previously thought by Germany-Kun to be gorgeous! Isn't that right, Germany-Kun?"

"Well―," Germany started.

"Mine's even more awesome than everyone else's!" America exclaimed. "You do think so, right, Germany-Kun?"

"I guess so―," Germany said.

"Germany-Kun thinks mine's the best one, da-ze!" South Korea exclaimed. "Isn't that right, Germany-Kun?"

"Uh―," Germany started.

"Germany-Kun thinks that mine is the best," Japan smiled. "Right, Germany-Kun?"

"Um―" Germany said.

"I think mine's just ok," Canada said. "Don't you think so, too, Germany-Kun?"

"Let's just say that they're all great," Germany said. "Ok?"

"Hey!" Prussia exclaimed. "You guys want hot chocolate?"

"Hot chocolate is, like, tots oz!" Poland exclaimed.

Mexico looked up at Poland with his huge, fawn brown eyes and then tugged on the sleeve of Poland's sweater. The blonde nation looked down, and then smiled at the chibi boy.

"Hey, are you gay?" Mexico asked.

Things went dead silent, and rather than scolding him, Romano asked. "Are you?"

Poland's head whipped around, glaring at Spain. "What exactly are you teaching these kids?"

"I'm not teaching them anything! It's Romano!" Spain said. "He's like some sort of back-alley elementary school teacher"

"And you raised him!" Poland snapped.

"You're avoiding the question!" Romano exclaimed. "Are you a fag or not?"

"What the fuck is wrong with your kids?!" Poland exclaimed.

"Hey fag, I want an answer!" Romano snapped. "_Rapido_, Fruit Basket"

The driveway went dead silent, and then Prussia said. "Hot chocolate, let's go make some"

* * *

_**This was long and random. But, either way, I think it turned out good. Here's the translated version of Brazil and Argentina's conversation:**_

"_**A pair of testicles, you fagot!" **_

"_**I don't know what that means!" Argentina growled. "Learn to speak fucking Spanish!" **_

"_**I'll speak any language I want!" Brazil snapped. **_

"_**I can't understand you!" Argentina growled.**_

"_**That's the point, Fruit Basket," Brazil gave a rather evil smirk. "I could be calling you the worst insult right know, and you wouldn't even know" **_

"_**This can go both ways, bastard," Argentina returned the evil smile. "I could be insulting you right now, and you wouldn't know, because you won't learn Spanish!" **_

"_**Stop it!" Brazil exclaimed angrily. "I'm trying to learn Spanish, you moron!" **_

"_**You still can't understand me!" Argentina mocked. **_

"_**Stop!" Brazil snapped. "Fuck you!" **_

"_**(*Literally*) you little gay!" Argentina snapped. **_

"_**You're a dick!" **_

"_**You're a pussy!" **_

"_**(*Literally*) go suck a whole cane break of dicks!" **_

"_**(*Literally*) you're the son of a thousand bitches!"**_

"_**God damn it, shut up!" **_

"_**Piss off!"**_

_**Some of them had to be translated literally, because they don't really work in English. **_

_**Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed. **_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

_**Ninja**_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


	13. Chapter 13

_**Hey, everyone! THANK YOU FOR OVER 100 REVIEWS! You guys are amazing! As for a thank you, you guys can request chapters, anything you want to happen and I'll try to make it the best way I can. :3 **_

_**On a side note, PsychotiCaptain and I have made a story called 'The Hetalia High School Host Club', and I think you can guess what it's about. Then again, if you're curious and you like Hetalia and Ouran High School Host Club, go check out the story! **_

_**I don't own Hetalia.**_

_**~ * ~ * 13 ~ * ~ ***_

"One, two, three, four, I declare a thumb war!"

Germany rolled his eyes in annoyance, and then wrote out the new score on the chalkboard. "Seychelles beat Hong Kong, Italy beat Romano, Canada beat America, and Australia beat India; so Australia, Seychelles, Italy, and Canada are moving on to the Finals".

"Ve~, yay!" Italy exclaimed, jumping up and down while his brother pouted. He ended up going into a bigger pout when Mexico tried to comfort him ("I'm the big brother, I should be doing all the comforting!")

"Fuck you guys!" India snapped, pouting in his depression corner.

"This is stupid," America scoffed.

"Yeah, this is stupid!" Mexico scrambled to his feet and ran to America's side; hand on his hips, scolding all who defied the blonde boy. "We should all do what America-Kun wants to do!"

Anyone else would have asked 'are you making fun of me?' But all the Chibi nations already knew that Mexico was dead serious. America nodded and folded his arms, convinced that everyone else would just come to agree with Mexico.

"I hate to agree with you," Germany said. "But we are doing a Rock-Paper-Scissors Tournament. Isn't there anything better to do?"

"I can't think of anything," Japan said. "Unless any of you guys want to jump Sweden-San's fence and take his football—"

"NO!" Everyone shouted in unison, still scarred for life after the incident that had happened a little over a month ago. Most of the countries shivered, while India, Australia, New Zealand, and the South American countries just glanced around looking confused.

"China-Sama~!"

Every one of the Chibi nations ducked and dove for cover as Russia ran past, hugging China tightly around the waist. China looked surprised for a second, and then gave the teenaged nation a little pat on the head.

"Nihao, Russia-Kun," China said. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to borrow a cookbook," Ukraine said from the open fence gate, with a little Belarus at her heels. "And Russia really wanted to come, so I let him and Bela-Chan come along"

"I really wanted to see you~!" Russia smiled, his big, violet eyes sparkling both adorably and dramatically. China did look a bit nervous, but he otherwise didn't do anything to get Russia off him.

Korea scowled, then grabbed Russia's jacket and attempted to drag him off China (with, of course, no success or progress). "Let go of Aniki, da-ze!"

Russia gave Korea a look of bloody murder, gave the Chibi nation a slight push, and only tightened his grip on China's clothing. Russia stuck out his tongue and hissed. "Bite me, little man"

"Let him _goooooo_!" Korea exclaimed, slamming his tiny fists on Russia's legs.

"Jesus, I can smell the jealousy" Romano whistled.

"Nii-San, let him go~!" Belarus exclaimed; grabbing onto Russia's jacked and tugging on it. "You don't like him!"

"Hey, Belarus?" Mexico asked; walking up to her while she was in the midst of trying to force her brother to let go of China.

"Hm?" Belarus asked, letting go of Russia's jacket (he staggered a little bit, and then re-attached himself to China). "What is it, Mexico-Kun?"

"How do you get someone to like you?" Mexico asked.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU ASK ME?!" Romano exclaimed.

"Because he knows that I'm a professional at romance," Belarus said, putting an arm around Mexico's shoulders. "Let Dr. Belarus tell you how it's done"

"But . . . I'm his Onii-Chan . . ." Romano muttered.

"You're still my Onii-Chan, Roma-Nii!" Mexico smiled. "I just want romance advice from a girl, 'kay? It's nothing personal"

"I could never stay mad at you, Me-Chan!" Romano exclaimed, overly dramatic tears rushing down his face. "Oh, you darling little boy, you! You're the best little brother an Onii-Chan could ask for!"

"So, am I, like, invisible to you, or what?" Italy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Step number one to getting someone to like you is to be blunt about it," Belarus said. "People don't like it when you beat around the bush. Just straight up tell them that you're in love with them. Are you getting this?"

"Sí, señora!" Mexico exclaimed, jotting down notes on his little notepad.

"Step two is to see their reaction," Belarus said, pacing back and forth. "If they accept your love, that's great. If they don't, you must force them to accept your love. And when I say 'force', I mean 'force'. They'll understand if you stalk them obsessively, that's a worldwide sign of true love"

"Really?" Mexico asked, looking up from his notepad. "Isn't that kinda . . . Creepy?"

"No!" Belarus exclaimed. "Listen to your Sensei! Stalking is the worldwide notion for true love and admiration. The more you stalk them, the more they'll love you! Am I clear?"

"Crystal clear, Belarus-Sensei!" Mexico exclaimed, giving her an army solute. "Be blunt, tell them how you feel, and enforce your love by intense stalking!"

"You're ready," Belarus smiled, putting a hand on Mexico's shoulder. "Now, go get 'em"

"Right!" Mexico exclaimed, and then turned on his heels and completely tackle-hugged America. "America-Kun, I love you~!"

"W-what?" America spluttered.

"OH, HELL NO!" Belarus exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Mexico. "You did _not_ just try to seduce my fiancé! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Fiancé? Belarus, that was, like, two chapters ago," Mexico rolled his eyes. "You've gotta keep up with the pace. Second of all, you're the one who told me to do it"

"That was before I knew you were going to try to get all touchy with my fiancé!" Belarus snapped.

"As long as this system works," Columbia said, and then latched herself on America's arm. "I love you, too~!"

"You better not break my little brother's heart, you hamburger bastard!" Romano snapped.

"Chile, I love you~!" Argentina exclaimed, grabbing Chile in a 'death lock' around his neck and shoulders. Chile struggled a bit maniacally, but Argentina's grip on him was too strong.

"The system _works_!" Italy exclaimed, and then hugged Germany. "I love you, Germany-Kun~!"

"This is getting insane," Germany said; his eyes wide.

"This is so _adorable_!" Spain exclaimed, watching the chaos with little hearts in his eyes. "There's a little love-fest going on in the backyard!"

"How are you even allowed to raise children?"

Spain's smile faded, and he then glared at the person standing at the gate. Germany shuddered a little bit; he'd never seen Spain look any emotion that wasn't happy, in love, very happy, cheerful, or extremely happy. Seeing him look angry was, in a way, one of the scariest things on the planet.

"What the _hell _are you doing in my backyard?" Spain growled.

"I live next door, Spain, I think I'm allowed to walk back home from the supermarket" the man raised an eyebrow.

"Well, carry on, walk to your stupid house" Spain grumbled. Before the man could even move, Brazil's brown eyes lit up and he took off running towards the man, jumping and hugging the man's legs.

"_Portugal-Kun_!" Brazil exclaimed, happily. "You came to see me!"

"Creeper," Argentina grunted.

"Shut it, _babaca_," Brazil muttered.

"Hey," Portugal gave Brazil a light smack on the head. "We don't use that kind of language"

"'That kind of language'?" Spain asked, raising an eyebrow.

"'Babaca' is Portuguese for 'asshole'," Portugal said, picking up Brazil and playfully ruffling his hair. "Which is one of the reasons _I _should be the one raising him, because you don't even know when he's cursing"

"You shut your whore mouth!" Spain snapped. "He's _my_ little brother, you _puta_, now fuck off!"

"Spain, who's your friend?" France asked; little hearts in his eyes.

"Portugal is _not_ my friend," Spain muttered.

"Like I care, he's totally _hot_!" France exclaimed. In some terms, Portugal could be counted as 'hot' in a teenaged girl's terms. He had dark, oil black hair that swept off his face and kept out of his eyes, which were a light green. But only a teenaged girl's terms, but his face looked very youthful for a man of his age. He and Spain were the same height, yet Portugal looked to be about fifteen or sixteen years old.

"T . . . thanks?" Portugal asked, taking a step back.

"Just one thing," France said. "People would kill to look as young as you do at your age, so why do you dress like an old man?"

"I do _not_ dress like an old man, you _babaca_!" Portugal snapped, tightening the collar on his shirt. "For your information, I dress like a _gentleman_"

"He dresses like that to look older," Spain said. "But, considered the fact that he still looks like a fucking child, it's not working"

"You shut your mouth!" Portugal snapped.

"Spain-Nii?" Brazil asked. "Can I stay at Portugal-Kun's house tonight?"

"No fucking way!" Spain exclaimed.

"Of course he can," Portugal smirked. "As a free-land nation, he can go and do whatever he wants, right? Isn't that he deal we made, until he officially made a choice as to who he wants to go to?"

Spain grunted, clenching his fists. "_Fine_"

As soon as Portugal left with Brazil, Argentina clicked his tongue and then smiled at Spain. "Traitor; this means I'm definitely your favorite little brother, right?"

* * *

_**Whew, that was random. I don't know what the plot was in this one . . . **_

_**Anyway, little reminders:**_

_**THANK YOU FOR OVER 100 REVIEWS! You guys are amazing! As for a thank you, you guys can request chapters, anything you want to happen and I'll try to make it the best way I can. :3 **_

_**On a side note, PsychotiCaptain and I have made a story called 'The Hetalia High School Host Club', and I think you can guess what it's about. Then again, if you're curious and you like Hetalia and Ouran High School Host Club, go check out the story!**_

_**Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed!**_

_**Aye, Sir!,**_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


	14. Chapter 14

_**I guess this story is a whole 'one-chapter-per-week' thing. Huh. **_

_**By the way, Honduras's character was based off of information given to me in a review by NHcatofawesomness. Honduras is all thanks to him /her, so thanks! **_

_**~ * ~ * 14 ~ * ~ ***_

Germany was set with his disposable camera, Nike tennis shoes, and his jacket. Prussia had tried to put sunblock on his nose, but Germany had rubbed it off.

"Here's a little tennis hat, Ger-Chan!" Prussia exclaimed, sticking the hat on his head. Germany took it off, laying it on the counter, and then attached it to the back of his jeans when he saw the look on Prussia's face.

"We're going to the zoo, Prussia, not the beach," Germany said.

"But it's hot _out_~!" Prussia exclaimed. "You're going to get an adorable little sunburn"

"I'll be fine," Germany said, exiting the house. He didn't walk ten steps before he got side-tackled by Italy, tumbling right into the yard and getting dirt all over his jeans.

"_Hey~_, Germany-Kun!" Italy exclaimed.

"Morning, Italy," Germany muttered.

"Ready for the zoo?" Italy asked.

"I will be when you get off me," Germany raised his eyes.

"Oh, yeah," Italy jumped off him, helping him to his feet and getting some pieces of grass out of his hair. "Sorry about that, Germany-Kun"

"It's fine," Germany said, walking towards Prussia's car. They were going to be riding with the Asian Nations, while France's siblings, Ukraine's siblings, England's siblings, and 1/3 of Spain's little Brady Bunch (they needed around three cars to hold all of them) rode in the other cars.

"Mexico, what the hell are you doing?" Romano asked, seeing Mexico holding a candle in the middle of one of Britain's magic circles.

"I'm going to try to summon the devil before we leave," Mexico said, his face glowing in the candlelight. "It gives me strength"

"THAT'S ADORABLE~!" Spain and Romano exclaimed in unison, fawning over the little Latin nation. Mexico ignored the two of them, the most he showed of their presence was the fact that he was trying to shield his candle to keep it from blowing out. Other than that, he was completely concentrated on trying to summon Satan.

"I can summon Satan, too, you know," Italy grumbled.

"Veneziano, that's creepy" Romano raised an eyebrow. "I should really start taking you to church"

"You'll start going to church with me?" Italy gushed.

"Hell, no," Romano said, and then kept his eyes glued to Mexico (who was beginning to mutter a very interesting chant in some foreign language.)

"Someone get that kid a crucifix-che!" Argentina exclaimed, seeming to be the only one in the room with an appropriate reaction to Mexico's actions. On the other hand, Argentina did look a little prepped up for a day at the zoo. He looked more like an inspiring young-adult writer on his way to a job interview in New York City.

"Stop trying to summon Satan," Germany rolled his eyes. "Italy, do you want to come in the car with me and Japan or do you want to ride with your brother?"

Italy gave one last look to Romano, and then nodded to Germany. "I think I'll have more fun with you guys"

* * *

"_Shawty got them apple bottom jeans, jeans!_" Korea shouted along with the radio, and anyone on looking the car would have thought that he was drunk. He was jumping around (that had to be illegal), singing incredibly off-key at the top of his lungs.

"Will you please stop that," Japan said politely, but his face showed no emotion.

"_Boots with the fur, with the fur_!" Vietnam sang.

"Stop that," Japan was beginning to look slightly annoyed.

"_The whole club was lookin' at her_!" Italy sang.

"Please don't sing," Japan muttered.

"_She hit the flo'_!" Taiwan sang.

"Stop _it_," Japan muttered.

"_She hit the flo'_!" Thailand joined in.

"Stop singing," Japan grunted.

"_Next thing you know_," Hong Kong sang.

"_Shawty got low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low_!" Japan exclaimed at the top of his lungs. Germany rolled his eyes, but he ended up smiling. No matter how serious you are, that song will get you singing by the end of its chorus.

"Well, at least we've narrowed down who the mature ones are," North Korea said.

"_Ja_, I guess so," Germany said. It surprised him by how much North and South Korea looked alike. America had said they were identical, but seeing North in person made that seem like an understatement. The only real difference between the two boys was the direction their curls went in.

"What's your name, da-ze?" North asked.

"Germany," Germany said, and even though he already knew the answer, asked: "What's yours?"

"North Korea," North said, scowling at the front of the car. "The idiot leading the Glee Club up there is my brother"

"I know he's stupid and we're superior to him and all," Germany said, getting a little confused. "But why do you hate him?"

North's face flushed a color of bright red. "I don't like to talk about it, da-ze"

"What―?" Germany started.

"WE'RE HERE!" Korea exclaimed at the top of his lungs, jumping out of the car as soon as it came to a stop. The Asian nation was running around in circles like a maniac exclaiming that zoos were invented in South Korea.

"Ok, ok, calm down," China sighed. "Get in groups, we can't all get lost. We're going to get to see everything don't―_Korea, leave that squirrel alone_!"

"Yes, Aniki," Korea sighed, letting his freshly-captured squirrel free into the wild. The little nation then ran to America and Canada and proclaimed that the three of them should be in a group together.

The group picking was where the real chaos began. Italy instantly proclaimed that he was to be in a group with Germany and Japan, and insisted that Romano should come with them. Romano, however, wasn't going to go anywhere without Mexico by his side. Not to mention Mexico wanted to go with America, and Belarus wasn't about to let that happen. Then Columbia said she was going to put an end to all the fighting by being alone with America.

"_No way, bitch_!" Belarus exclaimed, grabbing America's hand tightly and digging her fingernails into his skin. He let out a little cry of pain, jumping up and down and doing this awkward little pain-dance.

"We don't use that kind of language, Bela-Chan," Ukraine said, tapping her on the head. "Why don't we get into groups of three? America-Kun, Korea-Kun, and Canada-Kun can be in one group; and Bela-Chan, Mexico-Kun, and Columbia-Chan can be in another group"

"_What_?" Mexico, Columbia, and Belarus exclaimed in unison.

"Yeah, I like that idea," Spain smirked. "They need time to get to know each other and make nice. And that can't happen with America around for them to fight over. Right now, America belongs to no one"

"When did I become property?" America asked, shuddering.

"Do you want to come with Germany-San and I, then, Italy-Kun?" Japan asked.

"Yeah," Italy said, looking a little sad. "It's like I said before, I'll have more fun with you guys, anyway"

* * *

"What's it doing?" Japan asked.

"I dunno," Germany said. "Maybe it's . . . dancing?"

The three nations were in front of the otter habitat, where one of the otters had been pushing around a ball with a bell in it for over ten minutes. But every time the bell rang, it would jump backwards and then reproach it slowly, tapping it again. This cycle had been repeating itself for a while, and Germany couldn't tell if the otter was scared or just trained to do it.

"Maybe," Japan suggested. "It's some sort of ancient otter ritual"

"I doubt otters have ancient rituals," Germany said, raising an eyebrow. "What do you think Italy―?"

Germany nearly jumped back a mile when he realized why the little Italian had been so quiet. Silver tears dripped from his eyes, rolling over his nose and down his cheeks. He sniffled, trying his best to keep his crying quiet. By the time Germany had talked to him, he was already starting to fail at keeping his tears a secret.

"Italy-Kun?" Japan asked. "What's wrong?"

"R-Ro-Ma-No . . . h-he . . . doesn't . . . l-like . . ." Italy sobbed. "O-Nii-Chan . . . d-doesn't . . . l-like . . . m-me . . . a-ny-m-ore . . ."

Japan went incredibly stiff, even stiffer than usual. The poor boy didn't really know how to deal with emotions; the last thing he thought of doing was how to make someone stop crying. "Italy-Kun . . . that's not true . . ."

When Italy kept sobbing, the Asian nation took a giant step back and then hid behind Germany. "I tried," he whispered.

Germany sighed. "That's not true, Italy. Romano's just a little overwhelmed about having a younger nation to take care of, I'm sure it's nothing personal. He still likes you―"

Italy rushed forward, wrapping his arms around him and sobbing right into his shirt. Germany was surprised for a moment, then patted his head and back, hardly anything considering as 'returning the hug', but something vaguely close. Italy's hug was almost saying 'you don't have to say anything more to comfort me, because I trust you'.

"Hey, look!" Japan exclaimed, trying to change both the mood and the subject. "The otter's doing that ancient ritual again!"

"Really?" Italy exclaimed, letting go of Germany but grabbing his hand and tugging him along. There were still droplets of tears in his eyes as he laughed. "That's so cute! But I don't think it's a ritual, Japan-Kun, I think it's a cute little dance that otters do when they want sugar"

"Can otters eat sugar?" Germany asked. "I mean, dogs can't eat chocolate. So would sugar kill an otter like chocolate kills dogs?"

"I dunno, but I don't want to experiment," Japan said, pulling out a disposable camera (he was beginning to buy more and more of those every day) and taking a picture of the otter playing / dancing / performing an ancient ritual with the ball. "It's too cute"

"Can we see the lions next?" Italy exclaimed, linking his arms with theirs and heading down the pathways. "I love kitties!"

"Lions aren't kittens, Italy," Germany said, not bothering to move his arms.

"They're part of the cat family," Japan said. "Italy-Kun has been doing his homework"

"No, I haven't," Italy admitted with a sigh. "But I do know that lions are cats!"

* * *

Nothing; Prussia felt absolutely nothing.

He was completely alone with Hungary (considering that Austria left to buy a soda a few minutes ago), and she was close enough to touch, her arm against his. And he didn't feel a thing. Nothing about of the ordinary, as if she was just any other person.

But she _wasn't_ any other person, she was _Hungary_. Why didn't he feel the same way he used to around her? The spark in him, that feeling in his chest that used to be there when she was around . . . it was gone. Nonexistent, as if it had never even been there in the first place.

Prussia sighed, watching one of the bears roll around in the dirt in front of him. It was time to face the music: he wasn't in love with Hungary. He might've been, once, but whatever had been there before wasn't here now. All he knew was he didn't feel the same now as he had back when he first found Germany.

"Prussia?" Hungary asked. "You've been quiet for more than ten seconds. Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah," Prussia said. "I'm fine. I was just thinking, that's all"

"Do you need to see a doctor?" Hungary asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Stop being stupid, stupid," Prussia stuck out his tongue. "I'm allowed to think, aren't I?"

"You don't have the capacity to think," Hungary rolled her eyes. "I honestly think you're head's filled with nothing but beer"

"Maybe it is, Hungary the Homo," Prussia smirked.

"_Don't call me that_!" Hungary exclaimed, punching him in the shoulder (he winced, that had hurt a lot). "I'm a girl!"

"You didn't say that when you were little," Prussia smiled.

"Shut your face hole!" Hungary snapped.

Prussia laughed. This was the kind of relationship he wanted with Hungary, the kind they had when they were little. He wanted the kind of relationship where they made fun of each other and laughed and talked like friends did. He didn't want anything more than that, and he couldn't believe it took him this long to realize it.

"I'm back," Austria said, handing Hungary a drink. From the corner of his eye, Prussia saw Hungary grab Austria's hand, squeezing it tightly. And to be honest, it didn't bother Prussia one bit.

"Did I miss anything important?"

* * *

_**Remember how I said I like PruHun, AusHun, and PruAus a few chapters back? Maybe you'll see where I'm going here.**_

_**This chapter was kind of requested by A.R. 0w0v; as they requested for Italy to cry to Germany about how Romano doesn't like him anymore, and to include more of the Asian countries. This was sort of my attempt at fulfilling that request. A.R. 0w0v, I hope it's what you wanted!**_

_**And to deadly-dragon-princess, my guess is that your O.T.P. is SpainxEngland?**_

**_By the way, Argentina says "-Che" because that's apparently some thing that Argentinians says. Don't blame me, the Internet told me. _**

_**Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed!**_

_**Aye, Sir!,**_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!* **_


	15. Chapter 15

_**This chapter wasn't requested, but I got this idea and I just NEEDED to write this. The requested-chapter will be up soon. Sorry about that. **_

_**(-_-*) **_

_**~ * ~ * 15 ~ * ~ ***_

Germany tried to see this situation in any kind of different light. But that was getting more and more impossible by the second.

For starters, Italy and Japan were on his front porch at around two o'clock in the morning. And Italy was holding a bible (Germany was scared that he was going to try to convert him to Catholicism for a moment, then saw that Japan was there, and his worries faded.) while Japan seemed to be holding a hostage.

"I know I'm going to regret asking this," Germany sighed. "But what the hell are you doing?"

"_MRRF_!" America exclaimed, but was muffled by a piece of cloth around his mouth.

"Please tell me that's a look-a-like droid of America sent to destroy the Earth?" Germany asked.

"No," Japan said. "It's just America-Kun"

"But that would be really cool!" Italy exclaimed.

"Did you kidnap him?" Germany asked.

"Yup" Italy and Japan said in unison.

"Thought so. Come on in, wipe your feet first, It's wet out there," Germany opened the door a little wider so the two of them could drag the Chibi boy in his house. On any other day, Germany would have freaked out and called the police. But after everything that had happened recently (from falling in a hole and discovering Japan's English skills to nearly getting Romano for a brother) this suddenly seemed like a normal happening.

"Can we put him on the couch?" Italy asked.

"Sure, just be quiet about it. Prussia's asleep," Germany said. "By the way, how did you kidnap him so unnoticeably at this hour?"

"With my mad ninja skills," Japan said, calmly.

"With your what-now?" Germany asked.

"Ninja skills, it's something I came up with last Tuesday," Japan said, then when he saw the look on Germany's face, he added: "Trust me, it'll catch on"

"_Ermmmffff_!" America muttered.

"I'll take off the cloth if you promise me you're not going to scream," Italy said. America nodded, and when Italy removed the cloth, America clamped his teeth on his finger and bit down hard.

"HE'S BITING ME!" Italy exclaimed, trying to shake America off him. "Get him off, _get him off_, GET HIM OFF!"

"Italy-Kun, calm down!" Japan exclaimed, grabbing him by his shoulders and tugging him backwards. America refused to let go, keeping his iron bite on Italy's index finger. All the while, Italy was screaming for him to let go.

"You're going to wake Prussia up!" Germany examined, grabbing onto Italy's shoulders and helped Japan yank him backwards. Italy had miniature tears in his eyes as he started at his finger.

"Animal," he muttered.

"Why did you people kidnap me?!" America hissed.

"We had to ask you a question," Japan said.

"This couldn't have waited until tomorrow?" Germany sighed. "Or this afternoon, since we're all going to the park anyway?"

"It's too important to wait," Japan said.

"Ok, fine, ask away," America said.

"When are you going to marry Belarus?" Italy asked.

That question left the room in a dead silence. America looked utterly horrified, and Germany was glancing around and wondering what the hell he missed.

" . . . Never . . .?" America said, his tone saying that he was asking the question rather than answering one.

"You have to marry her, America-Kun, you proposed with a ring and everything!" Italy exclaimed.

"It was a fake engagement ring!" America exclaimed.

"Of course it was, you're seven years old," Japan said. "You're working for cookies, here"

"I'm not going to marry her!" America exclaimed, and then frantically looked to Germany. "You're on _my_ side, aren't you?!"

"Well . . ." Germany said, looking at the ground. "I mean, you did propose to the girl and all. Plus, the whole engagement-ring-in-her-drink thing is something all men wish they could pull off"

"I . . . I . . ." America spluttered.

"You made an oath, now you have to keep it," Italy said, holding out his bible. "Now put your hand on the holy script and swear that you're going to keep your marriage promise tomorrow"

"I was wondering what that was for," Germany whistled.

"Fine," America sighed, putting his hand on the bible. "I promise"

With that, the lights flickered on. Prussia rubbed his eyes, staring at the four Chibi boys making a bible promise in the middle of his living room. He raised an eyebrow, and then looked straight at Germany.

"Did your friends kidnap America?" Prussia asked.

". . . Yeah . . ." Germany said.

"Thought so," Prussia shrugged, flicked off the lights, and then headed back upstairs and into his bed.

* * *

"This is stupid," America scoffed.

"It doesn't matter if it is or not, you've already promised you'd do it," Japan said, glancing around. The three chibi nations, along with all of their siblings, were at the park and waiting for Ukraine to arrive with Russia and Belarus. "You had your hand on the bible and everything. This is official"

"We're at the _park_," America said, narrowing his eyes. "Plus, it's been twenty minutes. Everyone is here _but_ U-Chan"

"U-Chan?" Italy asked.

"He means Ukraine," Japan explained.

"U-Chan, Ukraine, Bombshell, whatever you want to call her," America continued. "She's not here yet, so that means she isn't coming―"

"Sorry we're late!" Ukraine exclaimed, running into the park with Russia and Belarus at her heels. "Someone popped the tires in my car; it took a long time to get some new ones"

"Crud," America hissed. "Just my luck"

"You popped her tires?" Germany asked; his eyes wide.

"I really don't wanna get married" America said.

"You should've thought of that before you pulled out a ring," Japan whispered, shoving him forward. America stumbled a little bit, and then turned a shade of bright red in front of Belarus.

"What is it, America?" Belarus asked.

"D . . . D'you . . ." America scratched the back of his neck, looking at the ground, his cheeks flushing a bright red color. "D'you wanna . . . get m―?"

"Get down on one knee!" Italy exclaimed, forcing him to stand down on one knee.

"Gotcha," America nodded. "D'you wanna―"

"Now take her hand," Japan added.

"Right," America was beginning to look slightly annoyed, as he took Belarus's hand (Belarus herself looked incredibly confused, but she wasn't complaining about America holding her hand and getting down on one knee). "Do you want to―?"

"Gaze into her eyes," Italy advised.

"Right, right, sure," America grumbled. "Do you―"

"Don't whisper, raise your voice," Japan said.

"Like this?" America raised his voice, glaring at Japan and Italy. "Ok, fine, whatever. Belarus, by any chance d'you wanna―?"

"Stop saying 'd'you wanna', say 'do you want to'," Italy said.

"Noted," America said. "But I won't get a chance to say anything if you won't let me talk!"

"_Mi dispiace_," Italy said, looking at his feet.

"_Gomen'nasai_," Japan said, holding up his hands in self-defense. "Carry on, pretend we're not here"

"_Thank you_," America hissed, and then returned his attention back to Belarus. "Do you want to―?"

"You've got grass on your shirt," Germany said. "Wipe it off―"

"_Ok, that's it_!" America exclaimed, standing up and grabbing both of Belarus's hands, and began talking as fast as he could talk while remaining understandable. "Belarus, do you want to marry me today?"

Belarus's eyes were the size of dinner plates, her mouth clamped shut, and she slowly nodded her head.

"There!" America exclaimed, turning around, and pointing an accusing finger at the three of them. "I looked into her eyes, I was momentarily on one knee, I got the grass of my shirt, I held her hand, and I spoke loud enough! Are. You. _Happy_?"

"Yeah," Italy said. "And now you have to marry Belarus"

America's eyes widened, and his eyes calmed. It seemed like actually marrying Belarus was a step he hadn't noticed while he was asking her if she wanted to marry him.

"I wanna be the best man!" Korea and Canada exclaimed at the same time, then glared at each other, and then ran over to America to ask which one of them was to be the best man. America himself seemed to shell-shocked to answer.

"Oh, oh, can I be the priest?" Italy exclaimed. "I'm the only full catholic here, so it's only fair! Plus the pope lives with me!"

"The pope lives in Vatican City, Italy," Germany said. "Vatican City is a country"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I've gotten a good earful of the whole 'Vatican City is a country' lecture a number of times," Italy scoffed. "I still want to be the priest"

"I'll take the pictures," Japan said, taking out a disposable camera from one of his pockets. "I've gotten good, I promise"

"You need a dress, Bela-Chan!" Taiwan exclaimed, running up to her, jumping up and down in excitement.

"_Oh_,_ dios mío_," Venezuela exclaimed, fanning herself with her hands. "I know how to pick the _best_ dresses, and Columbia-Chan can help!"

"Yeah," Columbia said, smiling and locking arms with Belarus. "It's been about a week, I'm totally over America-Kun"

"This is going to be so much fun!" Vietnam exclaimed, the chibi girls running off and shrieking about dresses and what colors looked good with Belarus's skin tone and what jewelry would be best.

"We should have a bachelor party for you, _amigo_," Panama said.

"You won't see me there," North Korea grunted.

"Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud, North," South Korea said, rolling his eyes. "The guy's getting married, _hyeong_, you should at least be happy for him"

"Yeah, besides, I hear that bachelor parties are really cool!" Italy exclaimed.

While the chibi boys went on about bachelor parties and getting America his tux, the boy in question stood in the middle of the crowd with a blank expression and wide eyes. While all the chaos was going on around him, he didn't move, and only muttered:

". . . What just happened . . .?"

_- To be continued -_

* * *

_**I couldn't fit the entire thing into one chapter, sorry about that. Huh, this is the first continued-on chapter I've ever written for this story. **_

_**The requested chapters WILL be up, I promise. Stay with me, guys! **_

_**By the way, 'hyeong' means 'brother' in Korean. **_

_**Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed!**_

_**Aye, Sir!, **_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!* **_


	16. Chapter 16

_**Oh, Doitsu, 150 reviews in 15 chapters. You guys are freaking AWESOME! I love you guys so much, you have no idea. :3**_

_**Anyways, in the words of Italy, now for part two~! **_

_**~ * ~ * 16 ~ * ~ ***_

_- Part__ 2 -_

"So, what exactly do we _do_?"

The chibi boys had no idea what a bachelor's party was, so they'd eventually given up and decided to buy America his tux. But the chibi nation was everything but cooperative when it came to picking out the outfit he was getting married in.

"This is so _stupid_," America muttered.

"I agree," Mexico said. "We should just blow this whole thing off and go to the movies or something. I'm sure Belarus-Chan won't mind"

"He's already promised he will," Italy said, straightening America's jacket. "See? You look great; we just need to fix your hair or something. Honestly, you're hair looks like something's trying to nest in it"

"Gee, thanks, Italy," America muttered.

"So what're we supposed to do?" South Korea asked, sitting back on the couch. "We've gotten him a good tux, and now we've got nothing to do"

"What happens in bachelor parties, anyway?" India asked.

"I don't know," Germany said. "But Prussia says there lots of fun, especially when 'they' come to the party"

"Who's 'they'?" Japan asked.

"No idea," Germany said. "He just giggles and turns red when I ask him."

"I've heard of 'them'," Romano said, taking a big bite out of a tomato. "Spain-the-Bastard says the parties not worth going to without them. Something about it being hot"

"Yeah, I've heard France talk about 'them'," Canada said, rocking back and forth on his heels. "He says they're always '_très sexy_', whatever that means"

"And Prussia says it's really fun because they can't tell the girls," Germany continued. "That 'they' are a lot of fun to have over, but the girls get mad at them if they find out they had 'them' over. Something about it being disrespectful or against the rules or something like that"

The entire room went silent.

"Guys . . . I think I know who 'they' are" India muttered, his voice raising with every word in his sentence.

"W-who?" Panama asked; the end of the pixie stick he was chewing on falling out of his mouth.

"Well, it's kind of obvious, is it not?" India said. "They're talking about soda"

"Soda?" America asked. "Like Coca-Cola and Pepsi and stuff?"

"Exactly," India nodded. "They're lots of fun to drink, and they cool you off when you get hot. And our big brothers, and sisters," he added, looking over to Italy. "Get mad at us when we drink it. The answer is quite obviously soda"

"What about 'them' being sexy?" Nicaragua raised an eyebrow. "Explain that"

"I think soda cans can be sexy," India said. "You know; if they want to"

The chibi boys exchanged glances, then all came to the agreement that 'them' was, in fact, soda and nothing else. The look on Romano's face said he might have a different theory, but he seemed as convinced as everyone else that the entire conversation was about soda.

"I know where Prussia hides the soda," Germany said, running to the garage and grabbing the two twelve-packs of soda and opening them up. Under ten minutes, they were all passing around cans of Coca-Cola. A few of them couldn't really take caffeine (like South Korea, India, and Honduras), so they were zipping around the room at warp speed. In ten minutes, South Korea had already drunk about four cans of soda.

"I know what we can do!" America exclaimed. "Germany, do you have any games?"

"Prussia has a few dance games, I think," Germany said, hooking up the Wii and putting in 'Just Dance 4'. America exclaimed that he wanted to dance, while Canada, Mexico, and South Korea joined in with him. The four chibi boys were dancing along to One Direction's 'What Makes You Beautiful', and due to his current sugar rush, South Korea was at least six or seven moves ahead of the rest of them.

"I wanna dance next!" Italy exclaimed. "C'mon, Germany, dance with me!"

"_Ja_, ok, just let them finish," Germany said. "Then we can do some sort of partner act"

"Cool, I wanna be the girl!" Italy exclaimed. With that comment, everyone just nodded and returned their attention to the boys who were currently dancing or their sodas, as if that just made sense to them.

As soon as they were done, Italy picked the song '(I've Had) The Time of My Life' and insisted that Germany danced with him. Luckily for Germany, it was for a boy and girl, but it wasn't too gender-biased. And also lucky for Germany, he was the one that got to be the boy.

By that time, some of the Asian nations decided they wanted to dance as well. Hong Kong, Thailand, Japan, and North Korea got together to dance to 'Jailhouse Rock', which mostly consisted of them jumping around to the tune of old sixties music. Hong Kong was actually doing a good job, probably because of his skills as a gymnast.

Then, Italy wanted to dance with 'his buddies', which meant Japan, Germany, and Romano. Romano nearly quit because Italy was making them dance to 'Oops, I Did It Again' by Brittany Spears, but Italy clung onto his arm and nearly cried. Germany's fists clenched, this was the second time Italy cried because of Romano and he was beginning to get sick of it.

But, in the end, Romano gave into Italy's begging and grabbed a Wii remote. Dancing to Brittany Spears could possibly have been one of the most embarrassing things Germany had ever done, and the dance moves the game made them do didn't help. Japan looked like he felt similar about the whole situation, but his face was bright red and he kept trying to avoid everyone's eyes. At least Italy looked like he was having fun.

Then, Canada and America joined up to do a duet dance, America picking the song 'Superstition' by Stevie Wonder. The two chibi boys moved in surprisingly accurate sync, as if they'd been practicing for this for months. Germany wouldn't have been surprising if they had been practicing, just to show off to everyone else.

By the end of the party, all of the chibi boys were danced out of breath and they had gone through all of the possibly soda in the house. Romano took one last gulp of soda, and then threw the can over his shoulder.

"Best. Bachelor party. _Ever_!"

* * *

"Oh, Bela-Chan, you look _tan lindo_!" Columbia exclaimed, jumping up and down and clapping her hands together. Belarus spun around in her white dress, one that Columbia and Venezuela had combined their forces to make. It was a lovely dress, a white one decorated with silk roses.

"_Dziakuj_," Belarus said, overlooking herself. She smiled at her reflection, trying to pat down her long hair.

"I want to do your hair!" Taiwan exclaimed; grabbing a couple of ribbons and pulling Belarus's hair back in a bun.

"Maybe you could take lots of braids and make that into a bun," Vietnam suggested. "That would look pretty"

"Hey, guys," Columbia asked, glancing around. "Is this what they call a 'bachelorette party'?"

"I guess it could be," Belarus said, a finger to her chin as she thought. "But Ukraine-Nee says all bachelorette parties need something, something hot"

"Like pizza?" Taiwan asked, to which all the girls nodded and agreed that pizza was the only logical answer. Belarus picked up the phone and quickly ordered pizza, which came in only a matter of minutes (Belarus found it appropriate to pay for it with Russia's credit card, as he loved her enough).

"What now?" Venezuela asked, taking a bit out of her pizza.

"We could watch a movie," Columbia suggested.

"Oooh, oooh! I've always wanted to see _Pitch Perfect_," Vietnam said, quickly finding the movie on Netflix. The chibi girls sat in front of the TV, happily eating pizza and watching the movie play in front of them. Of course, Columbia jumping on the table and singing along to some of the songs was a given.

"_Here's the thing, we started out friends,_" Columbia sang. "_It was cool but it was all pre-te-end! Yeah, yeah, since you've been gone_!"

"_You dedicated, took the time_," Vietnam joined, jumping on the table with her. "_Wasn't long until I called you mi-ine, yeah, yeah! Since you've been gone!_"

"_And all you'd ever hear me say, is how I pictured me with you,_" Belarus sang, jumping off of her chair but remaining on the ground.

"_That's all you'd ever hear me say_," Venezuela sang, jumping to her feet.

"_But since you've been gone!_" Taiwan sang, and with that, all of the chibi girls joined in, singing at the top of their lungs. "_I can breathe for the first time, I'm so moving on, yeah, yeah! Thanks to you, now I get what I want! Since you've been gone_!_"_

Every time a song they knew came on the movie, the girls danced around, singing at the top of their lungs and dancing as if their feet were on fire. But each of their faces were pink with happiness and they were shrieking with laughter.

The chibi girls fell on the couches by the end of the movie, the pizza boxes and soda bottles empty, each of them out of breath.

"Best. Bachelorette party. _Ever_!" Taiwan exclaimed.

Belarus smiled; the bachelorette party had come and succeeded. Now it was time to get married.

_- To Be Continued -_

* * *

_**Oh, Pitch Perfect. I absolutely love that movie. And if you haven't played 'Just Dance 4', you need to. I promise you, the dance they made for 'What Makes You Beautiful' is the gayest thing you'll ever see. Not that there's a problem with gay people. Gay people are awesome. But that dance is really gay. It's gayer that everything that's shown up on Hetalia. It's gayer than Sweden. It's gayer than France. You get it, the point it: it's really gay. **_

_**Another thing:**_

'_**Tan lindo': Spanish for 'so cute'.**_

'_**Dziakuj': Belarusian for 'thank you'.**_

'_**Très sexy': French for 'very sexy'.**_

_**Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed!**_

_**Aye, Sir!,**_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


	17. Chapter 17

_**AND WE HAVE PART THREE! THE EXCITING FINALE TO THIS POINTLESS CHAPTER SAGA THAT I MADE FOR MY OWN AND YOUR AMUSMENT! THIS IS THE SHOCKING CONCLUSION. WHAT WILL HAPPEN? WHOSE LIVES WILL BE LOST? WHO. WILL. WIN? **_

_**Ok, that made no sense. How's THAT for excitement, MTV? **_

_**I don't own Hetalia.**_

_**~ * ~ * 17 ~ * ~ ***_

"Ok, this is it, no turning back," Italy said, fists clenched with excitement. "You can face it like a man, or run away like a wimp. Your choice"

"I choose run away like a wimp," America said.

"That's not an option" Italy responded.

"You said it was my choice!"

"I lied. I'm allowed to, I'm Catholic"

"_That didn't make any sense_!"

"It doesn't have to, I'm Catholic"

America grunted in response, looking around for any kind of way of escape. Unfortunately for him, Italy had an iron grip on his arm, and he wasn't about to let go any time soon. America squirmed uncomfortably, trying to jerk his arm away, but with absolutely no success.

Italy was dressed as what he called an 'Italian Priest', but Germany could only call as the pope. He wore white robes, a cross around his neck, a white-and-red beret, and was clutching a bible close to his chest. It would be a good thing to add that Italy was the reason that Germany and Japan were wearing matching tuxedos.

The fight for Best Man ended in a tie between Canada and South Korea. The two had ended up getting matching tuxedos and were currently fixing each other's hair. South Korea had even gotten glasses so he could match Canada's appearance.

The chosen flower girl and ring bearer were India (who wanted an important role, even if he was 'too old') and Pochi (who's only current talent was holding a basket of flower petals). The little dog was wearing a little flower crown on his head, and it was decided that the adorableness earned this wedding a flower dog instead of a flower girl.

Belarus's chosen bride's maids were Venezuela, Columbia, Vietnam, and Taiwan. They each wore dresses in red and white, with green necklaces, all of the Belarusian colors. Each of them seemed to be enjoying the dresses, which Venezuela and Columbia designed and made.

Everyone took their places in the alter, America still squirming. It had gotten to a point where Italy had gotten some handcuffs and chained his ankle to America's. He then showed America the same, flaunting it in his face, and then tossed it over his shoulder.

"Papa!" Italy exclaimed, calling Austria over to the aisle. "Can you play some music for us?"

"What is this?" Austria asked, raising an eyebrow.

"A marriage," Italy answered.

"Is it illegal?" Austria asked.

"Not technically,"

"Is it dangerous?"

"Nope,"

"Well, I think I've asked enough questions not to be responsible for this" Austria cracked his knuckles, and then took a seat in front of the piano. His fingers danced across the keys as he began to play the wedding march.

That's when Belarus appeared, wearing a white wedding gown, a veil covering her face. America stood still for a moment, as if he momentarily forgot how he was getting forced into this against his own will. The bride's maids were quietly sobbing to each other, while South Korea punched America in the arm playfully. "I'm glad you're not gay, da-ze"

"I'm not sure that's what you're supposed to say, South," America whispered.

"I'm supposed to be quiet, da-ze, but I'm special" South Korea responded, patting him on the back and then folding his hands in front of him, Canada politely stifling a giggle.

As Belarus took the veil off her face and took America's hands in hers. Italy then signaled for Austria to stop playing, opened up his bible, and began to talk. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today for the union of Belarus and America. Wait, that sounded wrong. Really wrong. What are you guy's real names?" there was a bit of muttering, and Italy decided to start all over. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today for the union of Alfred F. Jones and Natalya Al―Alf―Al―"

"Alfroskaya," Belarus corrected.

"Right, that," Italy said, continuing as if nothing happened. "Do you, Natalya, take Alfred as your lawful wedded husband, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

"I do," Belarus responded, unfazed. America's eyes, however, were about as big as dinner plates. That sounded like a lot of freaking promises to him, and a long time to keep them.

"Now, do you, Alfred, take Natalya as your lawful wedded wife, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?" Italy asked, and he seemed to be dramatically leaning towards America's face with every word. Add in some dramatic music, and that scene would have been perfect on any MTV show.

"Uh . . . sure?" America said, sounding as if he was asking for Italy's permission to answer.

"It's a 'yes or no' question, America," Italy said, narrowing his eyes.

"Fine, fine, yes," America said.

"_Bueno_!" Italy smiled. "Now, if anyone has a problem with this union, please speak now or forever hold your peace―"

"What the _hell _is going on here?"

Before anyone knew what was going on, Russia had grabbed America by his tiny collar and held him up so he could look him in the eye. Given that his ankle was still chained to Italy's, Italy also flew upwards and hung upside-down. Russia had held America up so high the chain snapped and Italy fell to the ground, desperately scrambling away from Russia.

"Hello, Nii-San," Belarus said, twirling around. "Do you like my new dress?"

"It's lovely," Russia smiled down at his sister, and then glared at America. "Alright, you little brat, what are you trying to pull off here?"

"It's not me, I swear! It's those three! They tricked me into this!" America exclaimed at the top of his lungs, pointing accusing fingers at Italy, Germany, and Japan. "They're evil, _evil_ I tell you, _evil_! Please don't kill me, there are so many places I want to go, sights I want to see, thing I want to do! I haven't zip lined across the Amazon yet!"

"Alright, alright, I get it," Russia muttered. "You were tricked into marrying my sister; will you please stop begging for your life?"

"Oh, thank God," America sighed.

"But let's be clear about this," Russia pulled America closer to his face, giving him an intense death glare. "You are _not_ going to marry my sister, got it?"

"Really? But we're half-way through the ceremony―," America said, as if weighing his options.

"_You're not going to marry my sister_," Russia snapped.

"Got it," America squeaked.

"Does that mean _you_ want to marry me," Belarus said, latching herself onto Russia's leg. The nation got a horrified look in his eyes, then tried to shake the little chibi girl off him.

"Um, no, I just don't want you to marry _him_," Russia said, saying 'him' with disgust. As if mentioning America in any, even if it was just 'he' or 'him', was like poison in his mouth.

"No. It's official. You got jealous. That means you're in love with me," Belarus hugged her brother's leg firmly, as Russia tried his hardest to pry Belarus off him.

"I was being brotherly overprotective!" Russia exclaimed. "Note the word _brotherly_!"

"This is too cute~!" Spain exclaimed, gushing with pure happiness. "How have we not noticed this in the last few days? Oh, come on, Russia-Chan, _someone's _got to get married! They're all dressed up!"

"Someone can get married, as long as that 'someone' isn't either of my sisters," Russia growled.

"Mama and papa can get married," Italy suggested.

"We're already married, Sweetie," Hungary said, smiling down at her 'son'.

"Oh, ok! Then Germany and I can get married!" Italy exclaimed, grabbing onto Italy's hand.

"We can't get married!" Germany exclaimed.

"Yeah, you're only six," Brazil pointed out. "It's a difference when Belarus-Chan and America-Kun are seven, that's pretty much old enough to get married. Sorry, Germany-Kun, you're too young." The other chibi nations nodded, age being the only barrier they saw between Germany and Italy getting married.

"Um . . ." a little girl behind Spain said, walking up towards America. She wore a red sundress, her black hair in a braid that was neatly tossed over her shoulder. Like all the other Spanish colonies, she had big brown eyes and tan skin. America let out a small whistle.

"Where have you been these last few days?" he asked.

"I―I'm Puerto Rico, I was colonized a few days ago," the girl blushed, her face turning bright red. "Since no one else can, I was t-thinking . . . maybe w-we could . . .?"

By that time, Belarus had grabbed America by his ear and dragged him backwards. "Player"

"_Call me!_" America whispered, giving the little chibi girl a few hand gestures. She giggled, turning bright red.

"Come on, I didn't get this tux for _nothing_!" India exclaimed.

"We could bet on it," Mexico smirked, taking a couple of dice out of his pocket. "Losers have to wear their tuxes for the rest of the day"

"You just saw this whole wedding as a major gambling opening, didn't you?" Japan asked, in which Mexico quickly nodded in agreement.

"Oh, forget this," America said, taking off his jacket, then turning to Belarus. "Race you to the big tree!"

"You're on!" Belarus laughed, and in seconds the two had gone from fiancées to playmates. Soon everyone else had joined in, taking off jackets and heels and playing around in their formal wear, as if it was just any other day to them.

Hungary smiled, holding Austria's hand and resting her head on his shoulder. "I have a feeling our dry-cleaning bill is going to be going through the roof this afternoon"

* * *

_**THE SATISFYING ENDING!**_

_**Yeah, the next chapter will be one that was requested to me. Yes, I'm finally getting around to doing it. Sorry for the delay. (*-_-) **_

_**Well, we now know why Russia hates America so much, and why America has such a high divorce rate. Well, we can't all be perfect, can we?**_

_**Like it, love it, otherwise despise it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed!**_

_**In Shades of Blue, **_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_

_**P.S. how do you like my new sign-off? **_


	18. Chapter 18

_**As promised, this chapter was requested by: **_Germany'sFrau. _**I hope this is what you wanted! **_

_**I don't own Hetalia. **_

_**~ * ~ * 18 ~ * ~ ***_

The day was sunnier than it had ever been before, as the last glimpses of winter faded and turned into spring. Most of the chibi nations were running around in their newly bought shorts and t-shirts, and Japan was clicking away at his new camera for some "spring pictures". Columbia, Venezuela, Argentina, and France were all more than happy to model for Japan, but the one he wanted to take pictures of wasn't very into the idea.

"But Guatemala, your dress is so pretty!" Japan exclaimed, not doing much to enforce what he wanted, but nudging her slightly in the shoulder. "Just let me take one picture, _please_?"

"No, thank you," Guatemala said, ignoring him and continuing on her drawing. She seemed to be drawing the bird on her shoulder, a Quetzal, in her sketchpad. "I don't like pictures"

Japan sighed, ignoring the four behind him that were begging for pictures, and sat down in front of her. With a small smile, he pulled out his sketchpad. "Can I draw you, then?"

Guatemala looked a bit surprised, but she stood up and allowed Japan to get a better look at her dress. She only seemed preoccupied with her new modeling job for a few seconds, because she then began to daze off into some kind of fantasy. She was probably the biggest dreamer on the planet, and everyone knew that. If Italy (or anyone else for that matter) wouldn't stop talking, the grown-ups would send him to Guatemala, because they knew she would zone out halfway through the conversation anyway.

"Hey, _fratello_?" Romano asked, seeing Italy pace back and forth uneasily. "Are you feeling ok?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine," Italy gave a shaken smile.

"Well ok, then—," Romano started.

"It's Germany!" Italy exclaimed, grabbing Romano by the collar of his shirt and jerking him back and forth repeatedly. "We've been here for an hour and he _still hasn't shown up_! What if something's happened to him, _fratello_?! What if he's lost? What if he's hurt? What if he's _dead_―?!"

"Italy, for the love of God, calm the fuck down!" Romano snapped, shoving Italy off him.

"For the record," America smirked. "You probably shouldn't have used the words 'fuck' and 'God' in the same sentence"

"Whatever," Romano scoffed. "Anyway, Italy, calm down, don't shit a brick. I'm sure that damn potato bastard is fine. I mean, it's not like he's kidnapped or anything―"

"_GUYS_!" Prussia exclaimed, running into the park at top speed. He flung open the gate to the park (with a bit too much drama, one might add), probably out of breath from running all the way here from his house. "Germany's been kidnapped!"

With that, the entire park went silent.

And then Italy slapped Romano across the face. "_You jinxed it_!_ This is all your fault_!"

"No, it's not!" Romano exclaimed, clutching his now-red cheek. "That albino-chick-bastard is completely delusional; I doubt the potato-bastard's actually been kidnapped"

"He's been missing for two hours and I saw this suspicious black van drive past my house!" Prussia snapped. "Explain that, you little tomato!"

Romano went quiet for a moment, then raised an eyebrow and asked. " . . . Did you just call me a tomato . . .?"

"It's not an insult, Roma-Chan," Spain smiled, hugging the little nation. "Who doesn't love tomatoes?"

"Me," Prussia growled.

"You're going a little too far there, buddy," Spain muttered.

"That's enough!" Italy exclaimed, waving his arms around wildly. "The deliciousness of tomatoes isn't important right now! What's important is finding Germany and making sure he's ok! I say we split up and go look for him"

There were a few mutters and nods of agreement, and Belarus immediately grabbed Russia's hand. "I want to go with Nii-San"

Russia grumbled in protest, but after a few failed attempts to reach out towards China, he decided not to fight Belarus. Puerto Rico turned to America, her face the color of fresh cherries as she twiddled her index fingers. "W-well, if we are going in partners . . . maybe you and I-I c-could go t-together, America-K-Kun . . .?"

"Yeah, that sounds like fun," America smiled, and that one smile seemed to be enough to make Puerto Rico happy.

"Hey, wait a minute―" Belarus started, letting go of Russia's hand. Only for Russia to grab it again and proclaim that the partners were now picked, officially, and that they couldn't be revoked or rethought at last minute.

"Ok, good," Spain said. "England and I can go together, and Me-Chan and El-Chan can go together"

By 'Me-Chan' and 'El-Chan', Spain was referring to Mexico and El Salvador. The two chibi boys glared at each other in what could be utter hatred, but otherwise said nothing. They weren't about to argue with Big Brother Spain.

"Hey, Me-Chan's coming with me," Romano snapped, grabbing Mexico's hand and jerking him towards him. Both Mexico and El Salvador sighed in relief; Spain was never going to argue with Romano.

"I don't know what you're so happy about," El Salvador said with a dramatic flip of his dark hair. "_Putas _like you should be paying to get to spend some alone time with me"

"What was that?" Mexico growled.

"Me-Chan!" Romano nudged him in the shoulder. "Now, now, what have I told you to say whenever someone's being mean to you?"

Mexico cleared his throat, and then made a stomp at El Salvador (causing him to jump a little, but not much). "What was that, _you bastard_?!"

"Good boy," Romano smiled, patting him on the head.

"We're wasting time!" Italy cried, grabbing Japan by the wrist and running out of the park while shouting over his shoulder. "I'll go with Japan-Kun, now let's start looking!"

* * *

"_Japan_!" Italy exclaimed as Japan paid for his ice cream cone (he'd gotten a "craving", so he set out to find an ice cream shop and dragged Italy along with him). "We have to focus, Germany's probably in a lot of trouble by now"

"I am focusing," Japan licked the ice cream cone, and then turned to Italy. "Do you want one? I have money"

Italy hesitated, and then looked to the ground and muttered. ". . . Yes"

Japan smirked as he bought Italy a cone, then then two chibi boys headed down the street, licking their ice cream cones and muttering things about being focused. Then they passed by a TV store, where an episode of Pokémon was playing in the window, and Japan sat down and begun to watch it, forgetting everything about the current task at hand.

"Japan, I'm _serious_!" Italy exclaimed.

"So am I," Japan said, taking a lick out of his ice cream cone. "Look at the look on Team Rocket's faces. They have some devious plan and I know it, I can see it in their eyes. Therefore, I have to see what they're up too and prove myself right. They might actually catch Pikachu this time"

"Well, Spoiler Alert," Italy said, annoyed. "They never kidnap that Pikachu―"

"_La, la, la, la, la, la, la_!" Japan exclaimed at the top of his lungs, covering his ears with his hands. "I can't hear you! _La, la, la, la, la_!"

"I'm sorry, ok!" Italy sighed. "But we have to find Germany"

"Germany's fine, he can take care of himself," Japan said, lowering his hands from his ears. "If I know Germany, he's probably got the guys who kidnapped him running laps around their own house and telling them that they're house is filthy and that they need to clean it up. I bet those guys are terrified of him by now"

"Yeah, maybe . . ." Italy whispered, but anyone could tell that he still wasn't convinced.

"Why are you so worried?" Japan asked. "I'm sure Germany's perfectly fine"

Italy sighed, and then turned to his friend. "Japan, can I tell you a secret?"

Japan was surprised for a moment, because how many secrets can a person have at the age of seven? But he nodded and said: "Yes, you can tell me anything. What is it? Is something wrong?"

Italy shook his head, and then whispered. "I . . . I think I like Germany"

Japan's eyes widened, but then he smiled. "Yeah, of course you do. We all like Germany"

"That's not what I mean," Italy muttered. Japan went silent for a moment, only staring at his friend to make sure he was serious. But Italy had the same expression on his face the entire time: he was dead serious.

"Oh," was all Japan managed to say.

* * *

By four o'clock that afternoon, all of the groups decided to meet up back at Prussia house. After a bit of shouting and what could have possibly counted as a short discussion, they all came to one conclusion: none of them had seen Germany or heard anything about him.

"Oh, _God_," Prussia ran his hands through his hair. "I've _lost_ my little brother! I've _lost_ him! What am I going to do, Austria's never going to let this go, and my boss is going to get so mad at me—!"

"What's going on? Prussia, why is everyone in our driveway?"

Every head turned to see Germany, walking down the sidewalk with a few bags of groceries in his hands. Everyone was silent for a little while, then all of the chibi nations (and a few of the adults) leapt forward and completely tackle-hugged the poor chibi boy.

"_GER-MA-NYYYY_!"

Germany let out a yell of surprise before tumbling backwards, nearly chocking from the impact and getting all the air knocked out of his lungs. Prussia then kissed both his cheeks and overlooked him to check for any injuries.

"Ger-Chan, are you ok? How'd you get away from the kidnappers?" Spain asked.

"Kidnappers? Who told you I was kidnapped?" Germany asked, raising an eyebrow.

Spain turned around, glaring at a certain albino nation. "_Prussia_ did"

"Where were you, then, if you weren't kidnapped?" Prussia asked, quick to defend himself.

"I was buying groceries," Germany said. "The sidewalks got blocked; they were under construction or something, so I had to go to the one on the other side of town. You know; the new one?" Germany glanced at the plastic bags of groceries that were now lying on the sidewalk. "I hope you didn't break the eggs, not to mention the cheese there was _really_ expensive"

"_You_ do the grocery shopping for your household?" Britain asked.

"Well, Prussia doesn't feed me," Germany answered with a straight face. All of the other nations, chibi or adult, nodded because somehow, that sentence matched up with that scenario made perfect sense to them.

"You could have at least _told_ me!" Prussia exclaimed.

"I did!" Germany retorted. "Before I left, I even told you the sidewalks might be blocked and that it might take longer than usual for me to get home!" Germany glared at his older brother. "You weren't listening to me, were you?"

Prussia scratched the back of his head. "I may or may not have been watching a football game"

"Are you talking about football or soccer, here?" America asked, causing Australia and Canada to nod in agreement.

All of the chibi nations began to crowd around Germany, each of them full of questions for him (minus Romano, of course, who lingered behind but still listened to Germany's answers). Mainly because none of them had ever gone as far as the other side of town _alone_ before, none of them went shopping _alone_ before, and none of them had paid for things with _money_ before. And the fact that he did all of it by himself made it all the more interesting.

Before Italy could join the crowd of people surrounding Germany, Japan grabbed his wrist. Italy turned to the little nation with a confused look on his face, and Japan only smiled in response.

"Your secret's safe with me"

* * *

_**D'aw. Anyway, the chapter request was that Germany was kidnapped and they have to go rescue him. As you can see, it came out a little differently in the end. Germany'sFrau, if you don't like how it turned out, I can write it again with a different outcome. I know I kind took a big turn on what you asked for. **_

_**Like it, love it, hate it? I'd appreciate it if you reviewed!**_

_**In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!* **_


	19. Chapter 19

_**Thanks for 109 follows and 93 favorites! You guys are awesome, the best readers a girl could ask for *tear*. **_

_**Anyways, I don't own Hetalia. **_

_**~ * ~ * 19 ~ * ~ * **_

Prussia stuck his headphones in his ears and turned the music up until it was nearly deafening. He usually didn't listen to music this loud, but Germany had his friends over (Prussia knew them vaguely as "the quiet Asian kid" and "the ex-cross-dresser with the curl") and the three of them together were _loud as fuck_. Prussia found himself staring at the clock and counting down until it was a reasonable time to send them back.

By the time the clock read 7:30, Prussia danced around his room. He ran down stairs and slapped a "slightly concerned about your disappointment" look on his face. "Hey, Ger-Chan, it's time for your friends to go home!"

"Huh?" Germany asked. Currently, the three boys were sitting on top of the fridge and eating Prussia's stash of candy and sipping on juice boxes. Prussia grunted in annoyance, but gave him this look that said 'this-is-my-I'm-gonna-kill-you-if-you-don't-do-something-to-fix-this-in-the-next-ten-minutes'.

"_So sorry_, Ger-Chan," Prussia said through gritted teeth. "But it's 7:30, looks like your little friends have to go home"

"Aw," Germany said. "Do they have to?"

"Prussia-Sama, can we sleep over?" Japan asked.

"What?" Prussia's eyes widened and he looked at the little chibi nations.

"Yeah, can't they sleep over?" Germany asked. "I can call China and Hungary and ask, I'm sure they won't mind"

"I never said they c―" Prussia started.

"Yeah, we could order pizza," Italy exclaimed.

"We could all sleep in Germany's room," Japan offered. "I doubt the three of us will fit in Germany's bed though. I could sleep on the floor and Germany and Italy could sleep together—"

Italy's face turned bright red and he shoved Japan off the top of the fridge. The Asian nation landed feet-first on the counter, and then he leap backwards and did a backflip in the air and then landed back on the top of the fridge, sitting in the exact same position he was when Italy shoved him off.

"H-how did you do that?" Italy asked.

"Ninja skills," Japan said, opening up a pack of Reese's Cups minis.

"Yeah, right," Germany rolled his eyes. "Japan, it's never going to catch on"

"Just you wait!" Japan pointed an accusing finger at Germany. "Someday, someone's going to make movies and TV shows and books about ninja skills! There will even be Legos about it!"

"Right," Italy scoffed. "Like the Lego Company will go mad with power and start making TV shows using just their toys. Get real"

"Hey, I never said they could stay―" Prussia said.

"Hey, China," Japan said to the phone as Germany and Italy stared him down to see his answer. "Yeah, I'm ok. Can I sleep over at Germany's house?" there was a moment of silence, and Japan nodded. "Ok, _arigatō_"

"Can you stay?" Germany asked.

"Yes, I can" Japan smiled.

"No, he c—!" Prussia exclaimed.

"Hey, Onee-Chan," Italy said. "I'm sleeping over at Germany-Kun's house tonight, ok?"

Italy hung up the phone and then nodded to his friends. "I can stay"

"Ok, let's order out" Germany said. "We can watch a movie later; I bought some cool-looking popcorn the other day. The bag turns into a bowl, it's like magic!"

"_I never said your friends could stay_―!" Prussia exclaimed.

"You guys want pizza or Chinese food?" Germany asked, picking up the phone.

"I have Chinese food every night, remember?" Japan said.

"I can make pizza better than any delivery place," Italy reminded them. "But I don't feel like cooking, so . . ."

The three chibi boys exchanged a glance, then pointed to each other and exclaimed in unison. "_Tacos_!"

"Hey, don't do—that's my money!" Prussia exclaimed as Germany snagged his wallet and picked up the phone to order out. "_Ger-Chan_!"

Prussia sighed, heading back upstairs. Life's hard when you're little brother is the one in charge.

* * *

"Why don't we watch a movie?" Italy sat on the couch, crossing his legs in a crisscross fashion. Even though he'd given up on wearing dresses during the day, but he was wearing a plain nightgown for his P.J.s. "Do you have On Demand, Germany-Kun?"

"Yeah," Germany grabbed the remote. "What do you guys feel like watching?"

"How about a romance movie?" Japan suggested, causing Italy to whip his head around and glare at Japan, his cheeks tinting pink.

"Ew, no," Germany gave Japan a weird look. "I don't want to watch any of that mushy stuff"

"Yeah, neither do I!" Italy exclaimed. "Romance is . . . g-gross . . ."

"Ok, ok," Japan said. "What about a RomCom?"

"A what?" Germany asked.

"'Romantic Comedy'," Japan explained.

"No way," Germany said. "Anything else?"

"RomAction?" Japan said.

"I don't even want to know what that is," Germany grumbled.

"Yeah," Italy said, his face turning shades of pink as he glared at Japan. "Why do you want to watch _romance_ all of a sudden?"

"I dunno," Japan shrugged. "I guess I'm just in the mood for romance. Any kind of romance, really. Romantic movies, books, music, anything to do with _love_. Actually, let's forget romance, I'm talking about love. Love between adults, love between children, between a boy and a girl, or maybe between two boys—"

"Hey, let's watch a Scooby-Doo movie," Italy exclaimed, grabbing the remote and clicking on one of the many movies there.

"There are Scooby-Doo _movies_?" Germany exclaimed, eyes widening and taking a place in front of the TV. "No way, this is the best thing since schnitzels!"

* * *

"Japan? Are you awake?" Italy whispered, prodding the little Asian nation in the cheek.

"I am now," Japan whispered. "What is it?"

"What was that about?!" Italy hissed, loud enough to startle Japan but not loud enough to wake Germany. "Talking about love and romance and me sleeping with Germany like that! You _promised _me you wouldn't tell anyone, Japan, you _promised_!"

"And I didn't tell him," Japan gave what could be a slight suggestion of a smile. "I was only joking around," Japan saw the look on Italy's face, and then sighed. "I'm sorry, Italy. I was only trying to help"

"Yeah, I know," Italy said. "Just . . . I don't want him to know yet. Ok?"

"Yeah, ok," Japan said. "I won't tell him. Can't promise I won't try to help or anything, but I won't straight-up tell him"

"Thanks―" Italy started.

"Hey, what are you guys doing up?" Germany yawned, rubbing his eyes. "It's late"

"We were just talking about the movie," Japan said before Italy could open his mouth. "I think I'm going to start watching Scooby-Doo now, it looks like an interesting show"

"You don't have to start from season one totally, that's nearly impossible to find," Germany said. "It'll still make sense if you start watching from the new episodes. They're not exactly continuous"

"Noted," Japan said.

"Jesus, you should've woken me up if you were talking about Scooby-Doo," Germany rolled over on the couch, pulling the blankets tighter around him. "It's like you're keeping a secret from me"

"We wouldn't keep secrets from you," Japan said. "I prom—" he stopped himself when Italy glared at him and mouthed 'you have to keep your promises'. "We don't keep secrets from you. Well, nothing that isn't worth protecting"

* * *

_**Well, this was short. I hope it was at least enjoyable . . .**_

_**In Shades of Blue, **_

_**Ninja**_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!* **_


	20. Chapter 20

_**Sorry this chapter took so long, but with Spring Break and all, I was kind of busy. I was also in a small debate with myself on whether or not this chapter should be for Easter or April Fool's Day. I've already missed both holidays desperately, but better late than never, right? **_

_**I don't own Hetalia.**_

_**~ * ~ * 20 ~ * ~ ***_

The idea of most holidays—Easter, Christmas, Halloween―completely terrified Germany. He honestly didn't know how the idea of fat men and oversized rabbits breaking into a child's home excited kids like Italy. Not to mention how they were celebrating things like witches and ghosts and people coming back from the dead like zombies. He had no idea how children could get so happy over something that seemed so creepy.

And so, on that Easter morning, Germany sat parked on the couch with a juice box and a Nerf gun. He was completely prepared to catch this stupid rabbit in action. He'd just cleaned the living room and he had a feeling that this bunny was going to make a complete _mess_ out of it. Not to mention Prussia was easily hyped up on candy. There was no way Germany was going to let some weird stranger in his house, magical egg-laying rabbit or not.

Germany had woken up at 4:30 in the morning to catch the Easter Bunny, and by 7:00, he'd drunken twenty-seven juice boxes, watched _Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island _twice, he needed to pee desperately, and was beginning to get tired. As the little nation began to choose a third movie, he stopped and loaded his Nerf gun when he heard footsteps.

"I'm coming for you, _bunny_," he muttered, and then leapt out of his seat and fired his Nerf gun. In a split second, he shot Prussia right in the center of his forehead, and in his surprise, the albino nation tumbled to the ground.

"Prussia!" Germany exclaimed angrily. "You _idiot_! Now that damn bunny knows I'm here, thanks a lot! You've completely _ruined_ my cover!"

"What?" Prussia climbed to his feet, unsticking a Nerf bullet from his forehead. "West, what the hell are you talking about? Did you drink _all _of this juice?" Prussia then giggled like an elementary school kid. "Damn, you must really need to pee"

"I do," Germany admitted with a shrug. "But that doesn't matter. Today's Easter Sunday, and when that stupid bunny shows his face around here, and when he does" Germany then reloaded his gun. "I'll be ready"

"_You want to kill the Easter Bunny_?!" Prussia exclaimed in horror. "West, are you _crazy_? The Easter Bunny is a good guy, West, he gives us chocolates and jelly beans and stuffed animals! Why would you want to kill him?"

"He's going to mess up the living room," Germany said through gritted teeth. "This dumb bunny is breaking and entering, and it's against the law."

"When the fuck did you become a cop?" Prussia snapped, grabbing Germany's gun right from out of his hands. "Can't you just love the Easter Bunny like a normal kid?"

"The Easter Bunny is nothing but a criminal!" Germany exclaimed, jumping and making a grab for his Nerf gun (and missing it completely). "Now give me back my weapon!"

"No!" Prussia exclaimed, holding the Nerf gun up higher. "You are _not_ killing one of my childhood heroes, E.B. and I are homies!"

"E.B.?" Germany asked, and then thought for a moment. "Oh . . . . Oh! I get it, E.B. like _Easter Bunny_, that's actually really cool, Prussia. But I'm still killing the bunny"

"You're going to commit murder with a Nerf gun, West?" Prussia said, raising an eyebrow. "This thing has Styrofoam bullets; it's not going to kill anyone"

"They hurt, though," Germany pointed out, yawning. "And it'll kill a bunny if you shoot it enough"

"Ok, give it a try," Prussia said, handing the chibi nation his toy gun. Germany yawned, took exactly two steps, and then collapsed on the carpet in exhaustion. Prussia smirked, and then picked up his little brother. He should've known buying that kid a toy weapon was a mistake.

* * *

Germany had reawakened at noon grumpily, mainly because of his failure to capture and kill the Easter Bunny. But his disappointment ended when he was met with a basket full of candy and a new Nerf gun (Prussia's basket was about twice the size of his, but it was the thought that counted).

As Germany adjusted his new pair of rabbit ears, he decided that the Easter Bunny was indeed an ok guy / girl and that he didn't poison his food and decided to devour the candy like an animal (a civilized one, mind you).

Most of that afternoon was consisted of watching Easter specials on TV and eating lots of candy. Prussia seemed a little too interested in _War and Peace_, but Germany could have sworn he saw some kind of magazine hidden in there. Whatever it was, Germany didn't want to know.

"Germany-Kun~!" Italy exclaimed, with Japan at his heels. Italy had bunny ears on his head like Germany did, but Japan somehow found cat ears appropriate for the holiday.

"_Hallo_," Germany said, sitting up. "Happy Easter"

"_Not happy_!" Prussia exclaimed, wiping a bit of blood from his nose. "You tried to kill the Easter Bunny!"

"Why would you want to kill E.B.?" Italy asked.

"It's a long story," Germany shrugged. "I kind of thought he was a criminal. The usual stuff"

"Who hasn't tried to kill the Easter Bunny because they thought he was a criminal?" Japan scoffed, folding his arms, and Germany got a weird vibe that Japan had gone through a similar situation.

"I haven't," Italy sighed, feeling left out for a split second before cheering up again. "Anyways, they're having an Easter Egg Hunt in the woods today; do you want to come with us?"

Germany nodded in agreement, the three of them heading towards the woods. Most of the chibi nations had similar rabbit ears, except for Romano, who was a tomato for some reason. Mexico had to cut holes into his black cloak so he could still wear his rabbit ears (because "what's a better day to summon Satan than Easter Sunday?" No one had an answer for him).

Someone had to quickly explain to Germany that the point was to find all the egg they could possibly find, because he had no idea what was going on. Japan made a dash for the trees, given the help of his so-called "ninja skills", while Honduras and Hong Kong worked on finding the right kind of firecracker to burn down the entire woods.

Germany seemed to find Easter Eggs in the weirdest places. Hidden in drains, there was one around Pochi's neck (it was kind of obvious, Germany didn't know how no one found it), and Romano had one in his hoodie (he got mad when Germany tried to take it, exclaiming that he'd already found it and that he wasn't stupid).

Not to mention Japan was beginning to get on his nerves. Whenever he found one, he would fall from the trees and grab it before anyone else could. And that little motherfucker was _fast_. He also tried to take that one egg out of Romano's hoodie, but the little Italian nearly punched him in the face for trying. That's when all the little nations learned not to mess with Romano and what he believed to be his (bringing up the question if he counted Spain as "his" or not, and sending a new age of terror for the chibi Hispanic Nations).

By the end of the day, Germany had filled his basket with eggs of every color and design. Some were real, and mostly painted by Italy, others were plastic and had pieces of candy and money in them. Germany even got a little bottle of beer, and Prussia had attempted to wrestle it out of his hands for ten minutes with no success, exclaiming that it was meant for an adult to find it.

Mexico had given up on summoning Satan for the day, and decided to place bets on certain eggs and candy. For such a little nation, he was prepared, and he would bet on anything. "Who can run to the tree the fastest gets three Snickers" or "who can jump the highest gets three Hershey Kisses" (that was a shoe-in for Japan) and who could forget "whoever wins at Poker gets Roma-Nii's soul" (it took Romano a whole ten minutes to forgive his "little brother" for that one).

"I bet you're glad you didn't kill the Easter Bunny now," Italy laughed with a smile, popping a jellybean into his mouth.

"Yeah," Germany returned the smile. "But I'll get him next year"

* * *

_**I feel like I ended this awkwardly . . . Oh, well. HAPPY LATE EASTER, GUYS! Or as they say on Tumblr and everywhere else on this wonderful cyber world (AKA the internet) "Happy Zombie Jesus Day", everyone! And to all a good . . . mid-to-late evening / night. Or whatever time you're reading this. **_

_**In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!* **_


	21. Chapter 21

_**I got China Shimejis, guys, and my mom thought he was girl! Yeah, that's the most exciting thing that's happened to me this week. . . **_

_**Don't judges me, bitches.**_

_**~ * ~ * 21 ~ * ~ ***_

Romano liked to think of himself as the king of his household, and that next up was the world. And as a king, he ruled the house with an iron fist, and all of his subjects feared and respected him. He was the head-honcho around here, and that was the final verdict.

Only one person stood in the way of his dream of a totalitarian monarchy: Spain, or as Romano called him, "That Bastard Who Gives Me Food".

Spain didn't seem to get the fact that _Romano _was in charge here, and not him. He also didn't seem to get that being in charge gave Romano full right to demand things out of his "siblings" (Romano called them subjects. The only one who even got a sliver of respect was Mexico, and he was treated as a little brother rather than an equal).

Take yesterday, for an example. Romano wanted a tomato, but he didn't want to get up. So he yelled at Costa Rica to grab it for him. Romano didn't see what the problem was; Costa got him his tomato, even if the Hispanic boy nearly fainted out of fear. But that stupid Spain tried (without success) to make him _apologize_, of all things! Romano would have sooner given up eating tomatoes in general.

Later that day, he got Costa to brush his teeth for him, because he didn't feel like doing it. Considering that Costa Rica was his servant for the day, Romano felt like he was obliged to do these kinds of things for him. Spain had once again tried to make him apologize, and with once again, no success.

Spain was also unable to make him apologize for making Costa feed him his dinner, or for making him carry his things around for him, or for making him do his chores for the day. What Spain didn't understand was that _Romano_ was the king around here, and kings are allowed to ask their subjects to do shit for them. Honestly, it wasn't that hard to understand.

"This is _my_ house, Roma-Chan," Spain had scolded him in the nicest, most cheerful way possible. "So you follow my rules, ok? ¿_Entiende usted_?"

"_Your _house, _your _rules" Romano had smiled in response, a plan forming in his mind. "Got it"

That night, Romano had waited for Spain to fall asleep. If this was going by routine, the Spanish Soap Operas would stop playing at around 10:30 or so. At exactly 11:00, Romano flicked the light on in the room. "Alright, bitches and bastards, wake up"

The Hispanic nations were groggy at first, but when they realized it was Romano waking them up, they leapt out of their beds at top speed. Some even straightened their backs and gave him army solutes.

"W-what's this a-about, Romano-Sama?" Nicaragua asked.

"This meeting," Romano gestured to the lines of children, as they all shared a single room that was rowed with bunk beds. "Is about that Tomato Bastard's reign of terror on this house. It's been going on for far too long, and I say we put a stop to it"

"'Tomato Bastard'?" Honduras asked, as if he were trying out the words. "Are you talking about Spain-Kun?"

"Spain-Kun is nice to us, Romano-Sama," Columbia added.

"_Silence_!" Romano exclaimed. "He is _dictating _us, giving us no freedom and only an hour of free TV time! And even then, we get no control of the remote!"

There was a murmur of consideration through the lines of children.

"What are you suggesting we do?" Cuba asked. "Take over the house?"

"We do outnumber him," Romano looked around, attempted to count the number of heads, and then decided against it. "There's like―what? Seventeen or so of us, and only one of him?"

"Where would Spain-Kun go if we took over the house?" Panama asked. "I mean, dictator or not, he's still nice to us. I don't want to be mean"

There were murmurs of agreement throughout the room.

"Ok, fine, fine!" Romano snarled. "We're not kicking him out" the chibi boy smiled. "We're going to do something better"

* * *

Spain noticed the silence before anything else. When he awoke, he wasn't greeted by the usual "Feed me, feed me!" Instead there was this beautiful, still silence that made Spain glad to be alive. He sighed, enjoying the sound of absolutely nothing at all. This was extremely relaxing, the most relaxation he'd gotten in forever.

Something was wrong.

He got dressed quickly, then decided to head to the kid's bedroom, only to find it completely empty. God forbid they'd go downstairs to feed themselves, but Spain considered it as an option. Nothing.

"What the . . .?" Spain muttered, and then got exactly six phone calls at once. Spain did a six-way call, and then carefully answered it.

"¿_Hola_?"

"What the hell is going on-aru?!"

"England kidnapped my kids, he _kidnapped my kids_!"

"Why do you instantly blame me?!"

"He's lost, he's lost, he's _lost_!"

"When I get my hands on you, you're all getting a frying pan to the face!"

"I bet England's try to marry off my sister again!"

"_That wasn't my fault, Russia_!"

"Which one of you ass-fucks took West? I swear, when I find out who―!"

"_Guys_!" Spain shouted over the chaos. "Will someone please calm down and tell me what's going on?"

"Apparently, Germany's missing," Hungary's voice said on the other end of the line. "And that douche-demon Prussia seems to think that for some reason _I _took him"

"_You took him because you're a pedophilic cross-dresser_!" Prussia's voice shrieked.

"I couldn't have taken him, you idiot, because Italy's gone, too!" Hungary spat. "I bet it's France, he's always trying to start trouble―!"

"_Non, non, non_! Canada and Seychelles are missing as well," France's voice reminded her. "And it's quite obvious that England kidnapped all of these poor children for one of his weird magic rituals!"

"That would explain why Belarus is gone," Russia's voice said. "So he could marry her off while the other children watch"

"_It wasn't me_," Britain's voice snapped.

"It makes sense for you to do it-aru," China's voice said. "I mean, you can't have a marriage ritual without a crowd, right?"

"I didn't take your children!" Britain exclaimed. "How could I? All of mine are nowhere to be found!"

"I bet that's what they all say," France said.

"Guys," Spain said, looking out the window. "England didn't take them. I know where they are"

"Where?" six voices demanded simultaneously.

"I'll have to call you back," Spain said.

"_No, wait_―!"

Spain hung up, shoving the phone in his pocket. Outside, right in the middle of his backyard, was a castle.

He didn't know how, or why, for that matter, but they'd made a castle. How could a couple of seven-to-eight-year-olds make a castle? He'd walked to the front door when he was greeted by the Korea Twins, who each wore little soldier attire and held clipboards in their hands.

"Name?" South Korea asked.

"What?" Spain asked.

"Name, I need your name before I can let you go any further" South Korea said, jotting down something on his clipboard.

"South Korea, you know who I am," Spain raised an eyebrow. "I watched you and your siblings last week."

"Name, Spain-San, I need your name," South Korea repeated.

"Spain," Spain said.

"Age?"

"How old do you _think_ I am?"

"I dunno, forty?"

"_Korea, I'm twenty-five_!"

"Right, right," South Korea checked his clipboard, and then shook his head. "I can't let you in"

"_What_?!"

"You're not on the list"

"This is my backyard!"

"So?"

"_Ah, por el amor de Dios_," Spain walked, ignoring Korea's cries that he couldn't go in because his name wasn't on the list. The inside was pretty impressive, given it was a castle made overnight by a bunch of kids.

"_Ciao_," Romano smirked from atop his throne. Any other day, Spain would've died from the cuteness, and today was no exception. Romano was wearing a little king's outfit, complete with a scepter, crown, and robes. Not the mention he had his legs crossed in the most _adorable_ fashion.

"_Roma~_!" Spain exclaimed, grabbing the little chibi boy and hugging him tightly. "You look so _cute_! You're a little king, that's adorable!"

"Get off me!" Romano exclaimed, shoving Spain off him. "I am _not_ cute, I'm terrifying! Behold," he gestured to the castle. "The _Roma II_, my kingdom"

"You're kingdom is located in my backyard," Spain gave the little boy a skeptic look.

"So?" Romano (or King Romano? Romano-Dono?) scoffed. "You said it was 'your house, your rules'. So now that this is my house . . ."

"I don't get it," Spain said, and then he thought for a moment. "_Oh_! So you made your own house, so it's your own rules. I get it. By the way, how did you make this castle so quickly?"

"Mexico can build things surprisingly fast," Romano shrugged.

"So, what is this? A monarchy?" Spain asked.

"_Duh_, Tomato-Bastard, I'm the king, here," Romano took his seat in his throne. "Everyone has their place"

Spain was practically on a sugar rush from all the cuteness. They were a _little kingdom_, and their name was the _Roma II_. This was the new meaning of cute.

Spain smiled. Surely the others wouldn't mind if he let this play out a little longer. They'd be thanking him for the cuteness later.

-_To Be Continued_-

* * *

_**I think this will be a two-part thing. Yes, it's weird and impossible. But then again, so is Hetalia. Accept my twisted logic, people. **_

_**In Shades of Blue, **_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


	22. Chapter 22

_**This could be either a trilogy or a four-part-thing; it depends on how long this can go on**_.

_**~ * ~ * 22 ~ * ~ ***_

_-Part 2-_

By far, the busiest place in all of _Roma II _was the kitchens. Given that exactly three people were chosen to work there, and that their king was always hungry. _Always_.

El Salvador was the head chef because out of the tree of them, he was the only one with any somewhat professional knowledge or talent in 'the culinary arts', as he called it. The other two were Canada and Seychelles, who were only put to work there because France was their guardian / big brother-thingy.

In a nutshell, Canada could only make pancakes and certain types of syrup (don't ask), and Seychelles could only make tropical things that needed ingredients found on the other side of the world. With these coworkers, El Salvador was prone to migraines at the age of five.

"Canada, boil some water, _rápido_!" El Salvador exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "Seychelles, I need you do get the pasta out of the pantry, and get the ones shaped like bowties, Sir Italy says the other kinds are too boring for him"

"Sir, we're out of bowtie pasta" Seychelles said. "We have the swirly kind, though"

"Damn it! I'm _not_ settling for some second-best swirly pasta!" El Salvador rang one of the many bells for the many rooms of the palace. "Japan! I need you!"

In three seconds (counted) Japan arrived in the kitchen. Guatemala, Columbia, and Venezuela had designed him an outfit that allowed him to be stealthy. His entire body was covered in black cloth, and he wore a matching black hood that covered his entire face (except his eyes), and he had a belt around his torso (America had named it his Utility Bat Belt, and the name had stuck). "Yes?"

"Good, you're here," El Salvador wrote a couple of things down on a piece of paper. "You need to learn how to get here quicker, you took a whole three seconds that time"

"_Gomen'nasai_, El Salvador-San"

"Yeah, yeah, ok. Here's the list," El Salvador handed him the piece of paper. "And for the love of God, _do not_ forget to grab the bowtie pasta, do you hear me?"

"I understand," Japan bowed, and then took off. Given that four-year-olds can't make money, it was Japan's job to steal―sorry, _borrow _the food from their guardian's homes. Given that Spain was the closest, he was usually the victim of this thievery. But he didn't mind, since he thought Japan's new ninja costume was the cutest thing on the planet (for the time being).

"Do you think the Prince will want tacos tonight?" Seychelles asked.

"Seychelles, that's racist," El Salvador growled. "But yes. And don't forget to spit in that little brat's food. If I have to work for that _hijo de perra_, then I'm going down with a bang"

"I wouldn't talk about our prince like that," Canada said, counting the tomatoes to make sure there was enough for King Romano's appetite. "And if I did, I wouldn't call him a son of a b-word and insult both him and my king in the same sentence"

* * *

Romano didn't think life would be quite this boring as a king, but then again, being bored doing nothing was better than getting tired doing something. After all, he had an unlimited amount of tomatoes and he didn't have to follow that Tomato-Bastard's rules.

Oh, yes, life was good.

Hong Kong worked as Romano's personal adviser He didn't really know the panda-bastard that well, but he demanded that the man working with his personal schedule and life be a smart Asian. Turns out, all of China's kids (except South Korea) fit the bill. So he made Japan the spy, Thailand the physician, North and South Korea guards, Vietnam a soldier, and had Taiwan be a maid. That left Hong Kong, and he seemed smart enough to deal with making his life easy.

It hadn't taken long to organize everyone's job in the castle because Romano only had two rock-solid rules: 1) a smart Asian was to be the king's personal adviser and 2) no one who had ever lived with Britain from any point in time was allowed to work in the kitchen. Everything else sort of figured itself out with those golden rules.

"Any news?" Romano asked.

"The adults have finally discovered our kingdom," Hong Kong said. "Most of them think it's cute or show no interest, but the stupid Albino one had tried to entire three times"

"And?" Romano made a hand motion for him to continue talking.

"General Germany has stopped him from entering every time," Hong Kong said. "He deserves some thanks"

"He won't be getting any," Romano grumbled. "He should be grateful that he's the general of _my _army in the first place, right?"

"Yes, sir"

Romano scoffed, taking a bite out of his fourth tomato. The only reason that stupid potato-bastard was general was because Italy had begged him to give that position to Germany for nearly two hours. And he put up a good fight about it, saying he was stern and serious and he knew what he was doing. Germany should be grateful; he'd be cleaning the palace floors by now if it hadn't been for Italy.

"_Fratello_!" Italy exclaimed, running over to Romano's throne and taking a seat next to him. Being the king's brother, he didn't uphold the same title Romano did, but he still got a throne and all of the respect Romano got. Italy was dressed similarly to his brother, but more like an English gentleman rather than a king.

"Where have you been, I've been waiting for you all day!" Romano spat.

"I was just looking for my nephew," Italy giggled when he used the word 'nephew'. "He was supposed to come here with me, right? Funny thing is, I can't seem to find him"

"He couldn't have gone far, _fratello_," Romano narrowed his eyes. "He couldn't have left the castle, not without getting kidnapped or smothered by those stupid adult bastards"

Hong Kong looked up from his clipboard. "Maybe he's―"

He was interrupted when the door swung open, and the Sergeant Major, Peru, walked in while dragging the prince by the collar of his shirt into the room. Germany followed, closing the door behind them all while not taking his eyes off the prince.

On a normal basis, Peru was a sweet-'n'-simple girl who liked the sweet-'n'-simple pleasures of life. But she was also an incredibly no-nonsense persona when it came down to whatever job she had to do.

"Germany-Sama and I caught this guy," Peru nudged Prince Mexico with her foot (was it really a good idea for a sergeant to be wearing sandals?). "Trying to gamble with our soldiers"

"You're only mad 'cause I was winning," Mexico grumbled.

"_Silence_!" Germany snapped, adjusting his hat. He'd only been a general for a day or so, and he already had badges adorned on his uniform. "You weren't supposed to be down there in the first place," he then turned to Romano and gave him a small dip of the head. "I apologize for not find him sooner, my Lord"

Romano smiled. "_My Lord_, I like the sound of that. You guys can call me 'my Lord', now. Anyways, you two, out!" he gestured from Germany to Peru, and then to the door. Mexico tried to follow them out, but Romano snapped his fingers. "Mexico, stay; I need to have a talk with you"

Mexico huffed, fixing his crown and walking over to his "father". Romano stepped down from his throne, putting an arm around him and pointing out the window. "Look here, Mexico. Everything the light touches is our kingdom"

"I thought it was Spain's backyard?" Mexico asked.

"Shut up, it's our kingdom," Romano said. "Well, to be specific, it's _my_ kingdom. But I'm not going to be around forever, you see, so when I'm gone, you're going to take over and be king. All of this will be yours"

"Whoa," Mexico sighed.

"Or at least, it _was_," Romano turned to his 'son' with a more angry look on his face. "Until you started _getting into so much fucking TROUBLE! You're the prince here, Mexico; you shouldn't be so goddamn reckless_!"

"But, father―!" Mexico started.

"_Shh, let me finish_!" Romano snapped. "_I only ask three things out of you, Mexico: I ask that you look adorable, you act politely, and you stay out of trouble! It's been a day and you've already fucked up two of those three things_"

"Go easy on the poor boy, _fratello_," Italy said, getting up from his throne. "He's a child, he wanted to have fun. And at least he's still adorable, right, Me-Chan?"

"Don't encourage him!" Romano exclaimed, and then pointed to Mexico. "Go to your room"

"But—!" Mexico exclaimed.

"_Goddamn it, Mexico, get your skinny ass over to your motherfucking room right now_!" Romano snapped, and Mexico got up and sprinted over to his room, leaving the throne room in a new found silence.

"Romano," Italy sighed. "You act like his sole purpose in life is to be a perfect prince"

"Shut up, Italy, I'm a great parent," Romano huffed. "He loves me!"

"I do not doubt that," Italy said, his eyes glinting as he recognized this moment as the moment where he became the cool, all-knowing uncle that everyone in the movie comes to for advice. "But Mexico is a child, he wants to play games, have fun, and make friends. Give him some time; I'm sure he'll mature eventually"

"Yeah, sure," Romano scoffed.

"Romano, don't you remember what we were like when we were his age?" Italy questioned with a smile. "Back when we were such crazy little kids? Didn't I wear a dress?"

"You did," Romano laughed. "And we would play hop-scotch on Hungary's driveway until you'd fall and scrap your knees. Then you'd cry and we'd end up eating Hungary's cookies and watching Scooby Doo movies"

"It was inevitable," Italy smiled. "I still do love Scooby Doo, though"

"I hate that dog," Romano mumbled.

"And that time we dressed up in Austria-San's clothes and wandered around the house pretending we were him?" Italy asked.

Romano smirked. "Yeah, that did freak him out"

"See? Kids do crazy things, and so will Mexico," Italy said. "I mean, we did tons of crazy stuff back then"

"Yeah, we were pretty wild back then," Romano happily sighed to the memory.

"We were totally insane"

"Oh, yes"

"Can you believe it was so long ago?"

"Yeah, a whole week ago"

"And to think, we were Mexico's age a year ago"

"For something so long ago, it seems so soon"

The two chibi boys sighed, and Italy gave his brother a pensive look. "I've been thinking, brother . . . perhaps it isn't discipline that Mexico needs, perhaps he needs a mother"

"A mom?" Romano nearly choked on his drink, and then turned to his brother. "Number one: when'd you get so proper and wise? Number two: why the hell does Mexico suddenly need a mom?"

"One of us has to be the wise gentleman brother, and since it's not going to be you, it's going to be me" Italy explained. "And because mothers are an important part in a child's life. Perhaps my poor nephew is acting crazier than usual is because he doesn't have the love and compassion of a mother"

"_I_ can give him the love and compassion of a mother," Romano pointed out.

"Fine, fine, fine, the love and compassion of _two parents_," Italy rolled his eyes. "Do you agree with me?"

"You do recall that the last time two residents of this kingdom tried to get married, it didn't happen," Romano reminded him. "In fact, the groom was nearly killed by the Vodka-Bastard"

"As long as you steer clear of Belarus, I don't think you'll have the same problems," Italy smiled. "Nor the same consequences"

"Well, then, it's been settled," Romano smiled. "I'm getting laid—I mean married"

* * *

"How the _hell_ did they make a castle this complex in your backyard without you noticing it?!" Hungary exclaimed.

"Apparently, Mexico works surprisingly fast" Spain said, scratching the back of his neck. "It was all so cute in there, Hun-Chan, I couldn't just destroy it! They're a little kingdom!"

"At least they've taken on a monarchy," Britain muttered.

"Shut up, Britain"

"They've got _brochures_, aru," China said, grabbing a glossy brochure that read '_Welcome to Roma II!' _below that, in smaller print, was written: '_anyone under the age of 18 can forget that welcoming and get the fuck out. With love, King Romano of Roma II'_.

"Well, we can't get in," Britain grumbled. "Unless someone's lied about their age?"

"Shut up, Britain"

"This is adorable! They've got a royal family and everything, aru!" China exclaimed, looking over the brochure. "See? They even noted you Spain-San! 'King Romano Vargas, son to the late King Spain . . . uh, they put the late King Spain Something-or-another, aru. But it's the thought that counts, right, aru?"

"They're saying that I'm dead?!" Spain exclaimed, horrified.

"You would have to die in order for Romano-Kun to become king, dumbass," Prussia rolled his eyes.

"Still, that's kind of cold," Britain said.

"Shut up, Britain"

"Anyways, aru, the Royal Family goes on," China continued. "They even included their Grandpa Roma as the oldest ancestor. Let's see, present day . . . ok, Romano's the king and his brother sort of helps him out, I guess, aru. I don't know what that makes him. But it says Mexico is the prince, and Romano's son"

"So Romano can now randomly call people his kids?" France said, putting his hands on his hips. "As cute as all of this is, how long is it going to go on? That little egomaniac sounds pretty serious about all of this"

"Don't talk about Roma-Chan that way!" Spain snapped. "We're going to have to do a compromise. Maybe we can trick them into leaving the castle and coming home for good. How does that sound?"

The rest of them mumbled in agreement, Russia just now noticing what was going on and deciding to nod along and agree to whatever it is they were talking about.

Spain was cheering and jumping for joy on the inside. Now he was going to see _all_ of the castle's cuteness, up-close and personal!

* * *

"I have news," Japan leapt through the window of Romano's room, where he was sitting at his desk and making sketches of tomatoes with faces.

"Welcome back, Japan," Romano stood up to greet his top spy (wincing a little and moving his legs a lot. He'd been sitting down for too long). "What is it?"

"The adults are planning a compromise," Japan said. "In reality, though, they are attempting to trick us into coming back home"

"Ah," Romano said, sitting on the bed. "I see"

"What are we going to do about it?" Japan asked.

"Obviously, we're going to give the baby his bottle," Romano smiled. "Invite them over for what's going to be the best feast of their lives. Gentlemen," he stood up and referred to many even though he and Japan were the only ones in the room. "It's dinner time!"

_-To Be Continued-_

* * *

_**If you saw the Lion King reference in there, you are a worthy reader. I'm not sure about this chapter, I wanted to make it clear who everyone was. So I'm not sure if it was funny enough or just plain weird . . . sorry. **_

_**In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


	23. Chapter 23

_**Here's some thanks to insane-assylum-13 for Peru's character. I owe you one. :)**_

_**~ * ~ * 23 ~ * ~ ***_

_-Part 3-_

"Soldiers, line up and recite your rank!" Germany exclaimed, blowing his whistle.

"Private 2!" New Zealand, Chile, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Cuba, and Honduras exclaimed.

"Private, first class!" America, South Korea, North Korea, Argentina, Brazil, Panama, and India exclaimed.

"Corporal!" Australia exclaimed.

"Sergeant!" Vietnam exclaimed.

"Sergeant Major!" Peru exclaimed.

"And General," Germany said, pacing in front of his little mini army. "Listen up, soldiers, the King says we're having visitors come nightfall, and not to let anyone in before them. Prus―I mean; the Albino one might try to enter the _Roma II_ again. Even though he has yet to find a weak or blind spot in the castle, I want all the privates to patrol around the castle. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" all the privates exclaimed, giving their general a solute. But America gave his solute with the wrong hand and quickly changed it before he thought anyone noticed (which was about four to five minutes too late, but it's the thought that counts).

America, South Korea, and Brazil were about to head off to the castle's West wing, when there was a sudden cry of "America-Kun!"

The little chibi boy turned, and Puerto Rico ran up to him. She and Taiwan were the only two maids in the castle (the only ones who weren't working were the Royal Family, and since that only consisted of three people, cleaning wasn't much of a problem), and they both had to wear French Maid outfits, complete with hats and aprons. Puerto Rico held her hands out in front of her shyly, holding out a piece of red, white, and blue cloth that she probably stitched herself.

"I—I made you something," Puerto Rico's face flustered. "It's a bandanna, s-so I can see you when you're patrolling. N-not that I c-can't tell you a-apart, but s-since you're a-all in the s-same uni-f-form . . ."

"Thanks, Puerto-Chan, you shouldn't have," America smiled, tying the bandanna around his neck (a fashion Germany hadn't seen before, but America pulled it off surprisingly well).

"I-it's nothing, I w-wanted to!" Puerto Rico blushed brightly. "I m-made it in the B-British c-colors, j-just for y-you"

"You know, I don't think they're British colors," America smiled. "I think they're _America_ colors"

"Huh?" Puerto Rico asked. "W-why would you say that?"

"Because you made it for me, silly, not Britain!" America smiled. Puerto Rico turned the color of bright cherries, and started spluttering out syllables that vaguely sounded like words in the English language.

"Amer―Private!" Peru snapped, grabbing him by the shoulders. "Hasn't your General given you an order? Get to your station!"

"C'mon, Peru, let him accept gifts from his little girlfriend," Brazil smirked at his sister. Puerto Rico blushed at the word 'girlfriend', but Peru looked like she was about to puke on her sandals (which would be a shame, because they were quite lovely, with seashells and beads. Not fit for a sergeant major, but lovely).

"Puerto-Chan," Peru gave her sister a rather tight smile. "I would _prefer it_ if you didn't distract my soldiers when they have a job to do, ok?"

"Oh—uh―y-yes, ma'am!" Puerto Rico gave her sister an army solute, her entire face a color of apple red. "T-Taiwan-Chan and I have w-work to d-do, anyways . . ." she turned on her heels and ran off, America waving her goodbye.

"You should probably put that away," Peru grumbled. "It'll distract the others"

"There's no need, Sergeant Major," Germany smiled. "It's a token of love; a soldier should be able to keep one of those"

"That _wasn't_ a token of love," Peru muttered. "It's a _gift_ to America from a _friend_ of his"

"Sis, I didn't think you were the jealous type," Brazil smirked.

"_Didn't your general give you a job to do, Private?! Get the hell over to your station!_" Peru snapped, her cheeks were only tinted pink, but anyone could tell she was blushing. That didn't slow down the speed that Brazil ran over to his station, though.

"The higher-ranked soldiers come with me," Germany commanded. "We need to plan out the security for tonight, King Romano says it needs to be tighter than usual, and someone needs to personally guard the Royal Family"

Inside the castle walls, Italy stood next to the window, processing everything he just heard. After all, there were a couple big words and military terms used in that conversation, but those didn't matter, anyways.

"A soldier should be able to keep a token of love . . ." he murmured, and then smiled even though no one was there to see it.

* * *

Romano probably should've been more worried about openly inviting the adults to come over to his domain, but he wasn't. Quite the contrary, it seemed that he didn't care at all. He lay on his throne, eating tomato after tomato and muttering something about wives and no one deserving him.

The one to react best to this, it seemed, was Hong Kong. Being the king's advisor, Hong Kong felt it was his duty to lightly push (or shove, if needed) his king towards the right direction, since Romano himself obviously didn't know where the right direction was. Hell, he probably never _heard _of it.

So, while jotting down the plan's for night's dinner, Hong Kong decided he could make his king at least slightly worried with questions to what he should do.

"My Lord, what time is the dinner?" Hong Kong asked.

"8:30-ish, I guess. We can't keep everyone up past their bed times" Romano answered, his face focused on a cat's cradle he'd managed to make (it actually surprised Hong Kong that his king had enough intelligence to make patterns out of string).

"Yes, sir, and what is to be served?"

"_Tomates_"

"My Liege, we can't _only_ serve tomatoes"

"Fine, fine, have the chef cook whatever the fuck he wants. What was his name again? El Dorado?"

"El Salvador, sir, El Dorado doesn't exit"

"Really? But there's a movie about it!"

"A cartoon, sir, it's fiction"

There was a silence.

"'Fiction' means it's imaginary" Hong Kong sighed.

"Oh," Romano said.

"What about the security? That stupid Albino one could find a blind or weak spot in the castle, you know, I doubt there's something he wouldn't do to get General Germany back"

"You doubt . . .?"

"'Doubt' means I don't think"

"Oh. We'll, have our _wonderful fucking general_ do something about, because since he's so _goddamn awesome_, he can do everything right so I'm _pretty fucking sure_ he'll think of something"

". . . yes, sir"

At that moment, Italy burst into the room (Hong Kong noted him as the nicer, yet not the more intelligent, of the two brothers. Hong Kong wasn't sure who exactly he wanted as king anymore).

"_Fratello_, have you seen Japan?" Italy asked.

"Do you see him in this room?" Romano asked.

"No," Italy said.

"Then no," Romano took a bite into a tomato. "I haven't left this chair—"

"Throne," Hong Kong corrected.

"―_throne_ all day," Romano said.

"Where is he?" Italy asked, frantically.

"Doing his job, probably," Romano said. "Why?"

"Because I need to talk to him, Roma-Chan, I _need_ to!" Italy exclaimed. "Do you know when he'll be back?"

"It's depending on what house he's stealing—" Romano started.

"Borrowing," Hong Kong corrected.

"―_borrowing _from," Romano said, and then gave his brother a confused look. "You know; whatever you can tell Japan you can tell me, right?"

Italy thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "I can't tell you, _fratello_, it's like a Japan-only secret"

"What the _fuck_ are you doing making Japan-only secrets?!" Romano snapped. "I'm your fucking_ brother_; you should be able to tell me before you tell anyone else! Now spit it out before I punch it out of you!"

Italy's eyes got wide, and then he whispered. "W . . . what do you think Germany would like?"

Romano rolled his eyes. "_That's_ what you were worried about? Honestly, I don't know anything about the potato-bastard, except the fact that he likes potatoes"

"N-no, that's not what I meant . . ." Italy took in a breath. "I meant l-like . . . . like a token of . . ."

"Love?" Hong Kong suggested.

"Y-yeah, that" Italy said.

Romano's eyes got wide and yelled at the top of his lungs. "_Oh, hell no_!"

"What do you mean—?" Italy spluttered.

"What, you thought I wouldn't see it? With you trying to be smart and talking about love and me getting married earlier today?!" Romano snapped, while Italy looked horrified (Hong Kong didn't know why Romano was noticing this just now; he thought Italy's crush on Germany was quite obvious.) "Well I've got news for you, _fratello_; _I'm not marrying that potato bastard!_"

There was a stunned silence in the room, and Italy's mouth hung open.

"W-what . . .?" Italy asked.

"Oh, you thought I wouldn't notice, didn't you?" Romano snapped. "I bet you were looking for the sushi-bastard just so he could slip your little love thingy into the potato bastard's pocket with his weird-ass skills! And when he found, you'd say _I_ gave it to you and then I'd have to marry him because the last time someone found a gift around here, they got married! So listen here, _buddy_, I'm not letting that happen!"

"N-no, you don't understand," Italy spluttered.

"_I understand completely_!" Romano exclaimed. "And I'm not, I repeat _not_, marrying that potato-bastard! If I'm marrying anyone, it's going to be a girl (preferably a hot model), not that bastard!"

"I wasn't―!" Italy exclaimed.

"Like hell you weren't!" Romano growled. "Well, that potato bastard's not going to get any gifts from me! Hell, I don't even like him—!"

"_I know you don't like him, fratello, because I do_!" Italy exclaimed. Romano's eyes were the size of dinner plates, and Hong Kong nearly dropped his clipboard (because obvious or not, he hadn't expected him to shout it at his brother like that.)

Romano coughed, and then opened his mouth to speak.

"Oh my fucking God . . ."

_-To Be Continued-_

* * *

_**So, this is definitely going to be a four-part thing, possibly more. I like this castle-like theme, it's fun to write about. **_

_**Anyways, sorry if there wasn't much humor in this chapter. :(**_

_**In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


	24. Chapter 24

_**Well, guys, this is the final part. This story is going to have a lot of multiple-part things going on, I wish I could give you a name for what that's called, but I can't think of it. Thanks for putting up with my super-long four part thing of randomness!**_

_**I don't own Hetalia.**_

_**~ * ~ * 24 ~ * ~ ***_

_-Part 4- _

"They're gonna be here in five minutes!" Romano exclaimed; overlooking everyone in the dining hall, making sure even the "staff" was there. After all, he needed to show those stupid adults that he had everything planned out and organized here.

"Everything looks good―whoa, whoa, whoa, _no_!" Romano exclaimed, walking over to where Germany and Italy were sitting side by side. "There's no way I'm letting this happening, buddy"

"Is something word, sir?" Germany asked, as respectful as he'd always been.

"Yeah, you two," Romano scoffed. "Pota—I mean, _General_," he corrected himself quickly when he caught Hong Kong giving him one of his correction looks. "I need you to go stand at the other end of the room"

"Why?" Germany raised an eyebrow.

"Because—because that's where the military is supposed to stand, yeah," Romano snapped his fingers as if he'd come up with a good idea. "And you're with the Royal Family section"

"But everyone's scattered," Germany pointed out. "And Prince Mexico is all the way other there"

"_Mexico_!" Romano shouted. "Get your ass over here!"

"Yes, father," Mexico rolled his eyes ("he's getting to that age where he gets rebellious and starts to hate me," Romano had said earlier). He walked over to his father with an annoyed sigh, his hands in his pockets.

"Don't slouch," Romano commanded. "Ok, military on the lower right side of the room, Royal Family on the upper left side of the room. Oh, and _general_," he moved Germany so he was standing at the beginning of his line, while Italy was at the end of his. "_Perfecto_!"

"It seems your brother is going out of his way to keep you and Germany apart," Japan observed, appearing next to Italy before he could even ask where he was. "Care to tell me why?"

"I, uh, I might've told him that . . . that, I, uh . . ." Italy blushed, looking down between his feet. "I might've told him what I told you"

"Why in the world would you tell _Romano_, of all people?" Japan hissed.

"It sort of slipped out!" Italy said in self-defense.

"These sort of things don't just _slip out_," Japan said. "What happened?"

"I might've screamed it at him"

"Why?"

"I was frustrated"

"_You_ were frustrated?"

"Well, yeah, but I wasn't angry. I was trying to prove a point"

"So you told him your deepest secret?"

"Wouldn't you?"

Japan hesitated, gave Italy a good long look, and then decided not to question the chibi boy's logic. After all, it had gotten him this far in life in the first place.

Exactly five minutes after everyone was in their certain place, the adults had arrived. On cue (and by cue, I mean Hong Kong's prediction) Spain started dashing around the room and exclaiming how cute everything was. He was about to hug Romano, decided that would be a bad idea, and then grabbed Honduras instead. He didn't let him go (and he wouldn't, not for the rest of the night).

After admiring the place for a moment, France decided to comment on how plain the décor was and how he could've done better. Romano rolled his eyes and apologized about the colors of the curtains about six times, and then decided that France's critique wasn't worth the trouble and decided to take his seat at the table.

Britain and Hungary had similar reactions, both the most appropriate. They dashed around asking all sorts of questions that Romano believed were unimportant. "Where'd you get all this furniture from?" "How did you afford all this furniture?" "How did you build this in a backyard?" "Where'd you get all the materials to build this?" "Romano, are you wearing the King of England's crown?" Romano felt as if none of their questions really deserved to be answered and just kept his mouth shut.

China just sort of squealed on how cute he thought Japan looked for a couple of minutes, and then decided to ask him if he would wear a panda costume for him. Japan never looked so horrified in his life, and Italy tried to keep himself from bursting out into laughter.

Russia had found Belarus quickly, given the small number of girls in the room. When she told him her assigned job in the castle was to be an assassin, he looked so proud of her to the point he was nearly shedding tears of joy.

And then there was Prussia.

Prussia's first reaction was to go to the table and stuff his face, but Hungry yelled at him to wait for everyone else before he started eating. Unfortunately for everyone else, he'd found the appetizers and starting eating pieces of bread and chips.

It took him a few minutes of eating to realize he was there for Germany, and then he turned and made a beeline for the little blond boy. He hugged him tightly and gushed over his uniform before putting him down and getting one of the meanest glares from Germany ever to hit the face of the Earth.

"Aw, look at you!" Prussia smiled, playfully. "What's your rank, soldier?"

"General," Germany answered, pointing to his badges.

"Oh, that's so cute―wait, you're a General?" Prussia's eyes got wide. "I'm a Sergeant Major! You're at a higher rank than me?!"

"Is that so?" Germany smirked. "I wonder why"

"We can all laugh at the Chick-Bastard later," Romano said with a roll of his eyes. "I'm starving, so let's eat"

The cooks (or El Salvador, to pinpoint it) had created a full course meal with nearly everything everyone liked. Canada and Seychelles had teamed up to make what they figured to be France's favorite meal (France looked like he was about to cry when they presented it to him), and the rest consisted of the standard dinner foods. Beef, pork, chicken, salads, and at least nine or so courses with potatoes in them (out of the three cooks, the only thing any of them knew about Germanic culture was that they liked potatoes).

"Nice little kingdom you've got here," Spain said, Honduras sitting quite innocently on his lap. "It's so adorable, Roma-Chan!"

"Cute or not, how long are you kids planning to stay here?" Hungary asked.

"Forever, Mama!" Italy exclaimed happily. "Forever and ever and ever―"

"You can't stay here forever, Ita-Chan, you're bed time is 8:30," Hungary pointed out.

"Oh," Italy sighed, and then turned to his brother. "I'm sorry, _fratello_, I have to go home. It's almost passed my bedtime"

"What?!" Romano exclaimed. "You _traitor_!"

"Uh, speaking of that," America piped up. "I kind of have to be in bed by 9, so . . . what? Do I stay here for another half-hour?"

"You get to stay up until 9? That's not fair!" South Korea tugged on his brother's sleeve. "Aniki, I wanna stay up until 9 too!"

"If you come home you can," China said.

"Sorry, Romano," South Korea shrugged. "Living in a child-controlled utopia is cool and all, but I really want to stay up until nine"

"Traitors," Romano scoffed. "Right, Hong Kong—?"

"It's dark at nine," Hong Kong said, handing in his clipboard. "I can set off fireworks by then," he got up and walked over to his brother. "I'm, uh, I'm not sorry"

By the end of the night, all of the children had been bribed or guilt-tripped into coming home with their rightful parents. Germany had agreed to come home when Prussia said he would let him keep his uniform and all his badges and let him uphold the title of "General" (but staying up until 9 was also a plus). Belarus was promised a consideration of marriage from her brother, and Spain simply needed to promise churros and a new football for any of the kids who were determined to stay put.

Even Romano had caved in when he was promised tomatoes and the right to "direct" (AKA boss around) his younger siblings. Apparently, Mexico never wanted control of the kingdom to begin with, and ran off without any bribery.

"I just want to live a _normal life_!" Mexico had exclaimed. "I want to be _free_!"

"Mexico, you're being melodramatic—" Romano said.

"_You don't understand me, no one understands me_!" Mexico snapped, and ran off without another word.

Romano clicked his tongue in disappointment, shaking his head and looking up at Spain. "Kids, huh? Being a parent is the hardest job I'll ever love"

". . . Yeah,"Spain said, still holding onto Honduras. "You don't seem to disappointed that your kingdom didn't last"

"I had a feeling it wouldn't," Romano shrugged, taking a bite out of a tomato he got from the table and walking towards Spain's house, side by side with his guardian. "Still, it was worth a shot"

"Really?" Spain asked. "It seemed kind of short-lived"

"Hey," Romano shrugged. "At least I got to be a king for a day"

* * *

_**See the song name in the ending, here? Even though I don't listen to that band (if you can guess what band sings it), I do realize the song name in there. Oh, well. **_

_**Yes, I realize the ending was rushed. But I have a new segment I want to get to writing so I had to end this one. Sorry about that. **_

_**In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja**_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


	25. Chapter 25

_**~ * ~ * 25 ~ * ~ **_

Germany's schedule was tight: wake up at 7:00 sharp, get dressed, brush his teeth, drag Prussia's lazy ass out of bed, eat breakfast, walk the dogs, and watch cartoons for the remainder of his free time. Not that he had much free time, anyway, with his self-teachings (it's not like Prussia knows anything to teach) and the aftermath of being someone's army General (even if it was only for less than a day).

It was a Thursday, no exception to his schedule, and he pulled himself out of bed. He brushed his teeth, pulled his t-shirt over his head and buttoned up his jeans, and combed his hair back into his head. It stayed neat for a couple of seconds, and then returned to its usual messy style.

Germany groaned in annoyance. He was a blonde-haired, blue-eyed, short, pale, skinny little boy who had a habit of acting older than he was. Sure, his little I-wasn't-kidnapped-I-was-buying-groceries stunt (if you can call a misunderstanding that wasn't his fault a stunt) had gained him a title among the other children, but the only adult who took him even remotely seriously was Prussia, and even he thought of him as just "cute".

So, he figured even the adults would take him more seriously if he looked the part of a soldier. He tried combing his hair back so it would stay out of his eyes and off his forehead, but his hair refused to work that way. It was like every lock of hair on his head was saying "I do what I want, bitch!"

Germany sighed, giving up in brushing his hair and deciding it wasn't worth it. Of course, it was still worth it. He wasn't going to stop trying, but he knew now that it was going take some time for his hair to cave in and listen to him.

Germany walked over to Prussia's room, and with a cry of "Prussia, get your lazy ass out of bed!", he flicked on the lights.

Only to be met with an empty room.

His eyes widened for a bit, walking over to the bed. It was made perfectly, the sheets pulled back and the pillows fluffed. Odd. Usually, Germany would have to make it for him. Germany felt the sheets and realized that they'd been freshly washed, probably earlier or last night.

"Prussia?" Germany called. He looked in his bathroom, in his closet, even under the bed (Prussia had made a couple of forts and a "secret castle" under his bed), all with no luck.

Germany bit his lip. He couldn't think of anywhere that Prussia would go, not before 7:00 AM, and especially without waking Germany up in the process. He glanced around; the entire room was clean, practically sparkling.

This wasn't like Prussia.

Something was wrong.

Germany bolted downstairs, fear filling him like water. This wasn't like Prussia. He wouldn't have woken up early or made his bed, let alone cleaned his entire room. What if he was hurt? He liked to go out drinking at night, what if he stumbled home and hurt himself, and the inspectors had to clean his room in the process? Let's forget hurt, what if he's dead—?

Germany swung open the door, panting a bit from how fast he ran from Prussia's room on the third floor all the way to the garage. Catching his breath, he noticed the abnormal scene.

There were jeeps everywhere, to begin with, army vehicles. Each of them was a deep camouflage color, with the Prussian crest on the side of each door. But each soldier was dressed in black, something that almost looked like a suit. Prussia was wearing something similar, but his had a tie and hat, not to mention his uniform was adorned with a couple of medals.

"Prussia!" Germany exclaimed, and fought back every urge to hug him. He was so worried, though, and so relieved that he was ok. But he wasn't going to make himself look soft, especially when he was so cute and pathetic as it is. "What's going on? What're all these people doing in our garage!"

"They're outside our house, too," Prussia pointed out.

"I don't care! Who are these people?!" Germany yelled, causing a few soldiers to give him a confused glance before returning to their work.

"The Prussian army, West, my army," Prussia sighed. "Look, I, uh . . . I have to go to war"

"War?" Germany's eyes widened. "With who?"

"Austria," Prussia said.

"Austria? That's Italy's dad!" Germany's first and instant reflex was to latch himself onto Prussia's leg (he was a small kid, his leg was the only thing Germany could reach). "You're going to hurt him! Hell, you're going to hurt yourself! I'm not going to let you go!"

"Get that brat off you," a soldier with a Corporals badge snapped.

"West, let me go," Prussia pushed Germany's head back, not enough to hurt, but enough to make him wobble. That wasn't enough to make him let go, however, it just made Germany tighten his grip on his leg.

"No!" Germany screamed. "You're not going anywhere! I won't let you!"

By now, other soldiers were turning and beginning to stare. This, of course, was all according to plan. If he made a big enough scene, more people would be on his side. After all, who wants to deny a cute, sad little boy the right to live with his family?

"West—" Prussia started.

"You're going to get yourself killed!" Germany yelled. "You're going to hurt my friend's family! I won't let you go! I won't!"

"Prussia," the corporal hissed through gritted teeth.

"C'mon, West," Prussia shook his leg. "That's enough"

"No!" Germany dug his nails into his leg, and he could've sworn he tore the fabric.

"West—!"

"No!"

"Let go of me, West!"

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no—!"

"Germany, let go of my leg!" Prussia exclaimed, grabbing the little boy by his shoulders and yanking him off his leg. He set his little brother on the ground, studying his pants leg (Germany, as it turns out, had torn the fabric a bit), and then kneeling down to face him.

"I'll be back before you know it, general," Prussia smirked. "But this is something I have to do. You should know, being someone who had his own army for a while"

"Prussia! Let's go!" A soldier shouted.

"Coming!" Prussia exclaimed, hugging Germany tightly. "I love you, West" and with that, he got up and ran to his fellow soldiers before Germany could even respond. That could've been a good thing; Germany didn't know if his pride allowed him to say 'I love you, too, Prussia'.

"By the way, I cleaned my room for once!" Prussia shouted over the roar of the engine. "So don't worry about it! Relax a little!"

Even after the jeeps had sped away, leaving nothing behind but the smell of burnt gasoline and the steaks of tires on the pavement, Germany just stood there. It all made sense now: Prussia's bed being made, cleaning his room, washing his sheets. It was all to soften the blow of him going to war, and with Italy's "father", of all people!

Germany sighed, turning and walking back into the house. Well, there's no way he couldn't continue his schedule.

* * *

He had the nightmare again.

The same one he had nearly a month ago, the recurring dream where he was mocked and shunned by people with faces he couldn't see. This time one of them had hit him, a clear blow to the face, while the others laughed and encouraged him to hit Germany a second time.

"_Make the little brat suffer!_" They jeered. "_Make him cry!_"

Germany bolted awake, sitting upright in his bed with dried tears sticking to his face. And even though it had been a dream, his cheek stung with pain.

Germany climbed out of bed, walking down the hall and straight to Prussia's room. This was another schedule of his; whenever he had that nightmare, he would go to Prussia's room. He wouldn't even bother to wake Prussia up most nights, he would just crawl into his bed and enjoy the newfound security that his brother's companionship brought.

"Prussia?" Germany hissed. "Are you awake—?"

Emptiness.

It was the first thing he noticed: how empty the room was. The bed was made, the room was sparkling. Not a single thing was about of place, and Germany absolutely hated it.

_ Oh, yeah_, Germany thought. _Prussia left this morning. He's not here._

The disappointment hit him harder than he thought it would. It was as if someone had poured ice down his back, it made his body shiver and his legs shake. He didn't know why he forgot Prussia's absence so suddenly, but all he wished was for his brother to be here with him. He wanted to see his stupid grin and hear his dumb laugh when he told him he was scared. Because as stupid and dumb as they were, they were always followed with a hug and a reassurance of his safety.

Suddenly, this house seemed too big for one blonde-haired, blue-eyed, short, pale, skinny little boy.

"Can I sleep with you, tonight?" Germany whispered. He was met with silence, and it was nearly enough to make him cry. But he pretended to hear something, he could practically hear Prussia's voice: _oh, isn't that cute! Ger-Chan had a whittle nightmare! Yeah, you can stay here for the night, West, climb in!_

The very thought made him smile. He climbed into the bed, wrapping himself up in a cocoon. Even though it had been hours since they'd been washed, his sheets were still a bit warm. But that could have been his imagination.

For a moment there, Germany wished Prussia hadn't washed the sheets. Then maybe they would have at least smelled like him.

* * *

After what felt like forever of war and cursing Austria's very existence, Prussia was able to go home. It was around 4:00 in the morning, and Prussia was exhausted, irritated, and covered in blood, dirt, mud, and something he didn't know what it was (but he wasn't sure he wanted to know).

Prussia kicked off his shoes, and then walked up the the third floor. Exhausted or not, his first priority was to check on Germany. That poor boy was only six years old and was already getting gray hairs.

He opened the door to Germany's room, only to find it empty. The bed was made, the room was clean, and all three of Germany's dogs were asleep on his bed.

Prussia first instinct was to panic. He knew he shouldn't have left, he knew it! He was gone for a whole month, what if Germany ran away and joined a group of wild Nomads?! The last thing the world needed was another Hungary.

Prussia rapidly checked every room on the third floor, saving the best for last: his own room. When he busted into the room (Mission Impossible style, he might add) he found Germany sound asleep in his bed.

For a moment, Prussia had never been so confused in his life. What the hell? Even when he was here, Germany rarely ever wanted to sleep in Prussia's bed. He came crawling around once every two months or so, if Prussia was lucky, and it didn't seem like him to sleep in his be once be was gone.

Then he thought about how lonely it must have been, especially for someone who started out lonely. Until Prussia found him. Then again, it wasn't like Germany to get lonely, was it?

. . . Did Germany actually miss him?

Prussia smiled at the thought, smoothening down Germany's hair and crawling in the bed next to him, just as Germany would have done had it been one of _those_ nights (as Germany called it). Despite acting like a soldier, and Prussia didn't doubt for a second that he was one, Germany really did have a soft side.

* * *

"PRUSSIA!"

Prussia's red eyes snapped open, and he jerked upright. "What's going on—?" Before he could utter another word, Germany wrapped his arms around his chest and hugged him. For such a skinny kid, Germany was pretty strong. His hug had nearly knocked the wind out of him.

Prussia was surprised for a moment, bus his surprise was short-lived. But only as he began to hug him back was when Germany suddenly shoved him away, bright red in the face.

"Oh, you're b-back," Germany spluttered. "What I meant was: welcome back, Prussia. I'm glad you're not dead"

"Thanks," Prussia laughed. "Kesesesese, I didn't know you liked me so much, West!"

"I don't!" Germany snapped. "You scared me, that's all! I'm just glad you didn't kill yourself out there"

"Hey, hey, West," Prussia smirked. "I didn't hear you say 'I love you, too' when I left for the war. Can you say it now?"

There's no need to describe how fast Germany sprinted out of there. Prussia laughed; yes, Germany was a naturally-born soldier. But obviously had a soft side.

* * *

**_Did this get kind of angst-y? I just wanted to fit some cutesy Prussia-Germany-sibling-moments again, so you might be getting. few more of those before the next 'arc' (thanks to a reviewer for giving me that word). Depends if I can think of them. So, yeah, I've been told that I'm good at writing deep stuff, so I get carried away sometimes. Even if it's just a purely humor fanfic for a purely humor show. _**

**_ In Shades of Blue,_**

**_ Ninja _**

**_ *BAGPIPES EXIT*_**


	26. Chapter 26

_**Well, I'm gonna keep up this Germany-and-Prussia-brother-thing going on for a bit. Thanks to **_Forever South_**, I do have another arc planned out. But I figure I can space the arcs out with some sorta-kinda slice of life moments with the brothers I'm actually writing this fanfiction about.**_

_**About the last chapter . . . I know it was kind of intense for such a happy-go-lucky story, and I'm sorry. You guys didn't sign up for that, my fault, sorry. I guess I just get carried away sometimes, since I'm used to writing drama, and not just cutesy humor stuff. So, right to the point: I'm sorry. **_

_**And lastly: THANK YOU SO MUCH! Did you know this is my first Hetalia story, and I've got 328 reviews? You're the best readers a girl could ask for. :3 **_

_**Anyways, onto the story. **_

_**Maybe I should start naming these chapters? I mean, it'd be weird if I suddenly started naming them now, right—?**_

_**Sorry, sorry. **_

_**~ * ~ * 26 ~ * ~ ***_

Germany never considered himself an "outdoor person". That was Italy's job. Maybe it was Japan's job, once, but that boy was very slowly descending into the darkness of being an indoor person.

While Italy liked all things Mother Nature ("I bet she's cute!" Italy would exclaim happily), Germany was a whole 'nother story. He was allergic to pollen, grass made him itch, and there always seemed to be something in the air that made him choke. He liked the confinements of his home and all the time he was allowed on Netflix, _thank you very much_.

However, other people seemed to find that 'unhealthy'.

It all started out when Prussia had his, notably, eighth fight with Austria this month via telephone. For a couple of people who claimed to hate each other with all their hearts and souls, they did call each other a lot. Germany wasn't even sure of who called who, it just ended in a bunch of yelling.

From what Germany could tell, they were talking about their younger siblings. In translation: they were bragging about how their little brother was better than one another's. It started out as the standard Soccer Mom talk that suggested that a parent had too much time on their hands and was too close to their child for comfort.

"West's grown another foot since you last saw him," Prussia bragged. That was a bit of a horrible lie. "What? Oh . . . maybe not a _foot_, but a good six inches . . . _who're you callin' a liar_?! _You're_ the liar, here, not me! . . . Yeah, that made sense! . . . Shut up!"

Germany rolled his eyes and returned his attention back to the Disney movie that was currently playing on the Disney Channel. He was watching _Pocahontas_, and was currently singing _the Colors of the Wind _softly under his breath.

"'Course he plays sports! I uh . . . Hey, West!" he put his hand over the phone and shouted to Germany. "D'you play any sports?"

"No," Germany called, sticking a potato chip in his mouth.

"He's a top notch football player," Prussia said into the phone. "Number, uh, 5. I am _not_ lying, you bitch, he was practically born out doors . . .! I know he was _literally _born outside, I was speaking metaphorically, you asshole!"

There was a pause, and that was followed by a bit of chaotic yelling. They were yelling something about Germany being a star sports player in this sport and that sport, and then something about a tomato being a vegetable and an apricot being a fruit. None of it really seemed to matter very much.

Prussia hung up abruptly; slamming the phone down on the counter and nearly broke it into two pieces. "West, go outside"

"I don't wanna," Germany said quickly, scoffing at the movie. Yeah, it wasn't right for Thomas to shoot Kocoum (killing is wrong and all), but could anyone really blame him? Kocoum was _clearly_ trying to kill John Smith, so it was a matter of self-defense.

"I'm trying to prove a point, Ger-Chan, go outside" Prussia sighed.

"Prussia, I don't want—"

And so, Germany was grabbed by the back of his shirt and practically thrown outside the door. Germany grumbled, wiping the bits of dust and dirt off his new shirt and walked into the middle of the yard. He wasn't going to play sports, considering the fact that that was exactly what Prussia wanted, so he just sat in the middle of yard, crisscrossed, pulling at strands of grass.

Out of boredom, he made himself a flower crown. Sweden-San, one of his neighbors, often made similar crowns for his "wife". And he said "wife" in quotation marks because his "wife" was Finland-San, who was only male in gender but practically female in everything else. Japan had tried to draw Finland-San, once, and he turned out looking like a thirteen year old girl.

Germany laid on his back, making sure not to screw up his flower crown, and began to try to find shapes in the clouds. He made out a bunny, a cotton ball, a flower, a duck, and Prussia with an arrow through his head when he heard the noise.

_Chirp, chirp, chirp_

Germany looked over to the tree, where a family of birds had made their nest. The mama bird flew off, followed by one of her babies. The other two looked nervous, but Germany didn't think much of it.

_Chirp, chirp, chirp_

The second chick lifted its wings, flying off after its mother. Now all that was left was the third chick, who looked a bit terrified. That is, if birds can show emotion in the first place.

_Peep, peep, peep_

Germany decided that this bird was slightly younger than the others, as its little voice hadn't quite matured yet. The little chick lifted its wings, preparing to jump out of the nest and join its family.

_Peep, peep, peep_

It took a lot longer preparing than the other chicks did, fluffing its feathers and looking out towards the sky. And after a last check, it steadied its wings and took a grand leap of faith out of its nest.

_Peep, peep, PEEP!_

There was a crash, a snapping of branches, and Germany jumped to his feet and ran over to the tree. There was a hole in the middle of the bush from where the little bird had fallen, and there was a loud cacophony of that dreadful peeping.

"Shh, shh, calm down," Germany reached out, carefully picking the bird up and cradling it in his hands. The poor creature was still soft and fluffy as a hatchling. He could see now that it wasn't as big or as strong as its siblings.

_Like me, _Germany thought with a sigh. He studied the bird closer and realized that one of its wings was broken. The bird wouldn't stop peeping, and Germany couldn't tell if it was out of fear or pain.

"Shh," Germany sighed, and then softly sang, something only a little more than a hum. "_Quiet, Peter, quiet. The moon goes on a trip. It bridled a white horse; it walks that gentle like its dreaming. Quiet, Peter, quiet. Silence, Peter, silence. The moon has got glasses; a grey cloud crowd, what's sitting now on his nose and ear. Quiet, Peter, quiet. Dream, Peter, dream. The moon looks through the trees. I think he even stops, to see Peter in his dream. Dream, Peter, dream._"

The bird was still peeping, but softer now. Germany turned on his heels, running inside and slamming the door behind him.

"West, you can't be back inside already!" Prussia exclaimed. "Go back outside—!"

"Get me some bandages, quick!" Germany exclaimed.

"Huh?" Prussia asked.

"This little bird—he fell out of the tree," Germany explained, grabbing some gauze and carefully wrapping it around the bird's wing. "He had a nasty fall, even broke a couple of branches. I think he needs food"

"I didn't know you were an animal person, West," Prussia smirked.

"I'm not," Germany said, biting through the gauze with his teeth and taping it into place. "I just don't think people should ignore the helpless"

* * *

After a month of bandage changing, spoon-feeding, and nights filled with endless chirping, the little bird was back to full heath. Though it hadn't changed much in its babyish appearance, it flew around Germany's head happily and could do as much as fetch him the newspaper in the mornings (that is, if none of Germany's three puppies didn't get it first). For someone who claimed not to be an animal person, animals did seem to like Germany.

"He's all better," Germany said that morning, pouring himself a bowl of Apple Jacks. "We should set him free this afternoon"

"Yeah," Prussia half-heartedly ate a spoonful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch (honestly, the _last_ thing he needed was sugar). "I'm actually sad to see him go, Ger-Chan, it's been fun having him around"

Germany looked at his older brother, and for a moment, actually felt kind of sorry for him. Though the bird had obviously been more attached to Germany, it was Prussia who loved the little thing more. Prussia played games with it, had him sit on his shoulder, and often nursed it when Germany was busy with 'things' of little to no importance. It was really going to crush Prussia to see the little bird go.

Germany sighed. "Prussia, do you want him?"

The spoon literally dropped out of Prussia's mouth, and he wiped the milk of the sides of his cheeks quickly. But he quickly got over his surprised and smirked, a bit of blood dripping from his nose. "That depends, West, _who_ are you asking me about?"

Germany rolled his eyes. "You're disgusting. I meant the bird; do you want to keep him?"

"Really?" Prussia's face broke out into a smile. "You're giving him to me?"

"Well, he's obviously to captive to be let go, now," Germany huffed as if he'd been forced into this, even though saying that aloud would be a lie. "And I already have three growing pups, so he'd just be a nuisance. I don't need him, so do you―?"

"_Yes_!" Prussia shrieked like a little girl, and as if on cue, the little bird flew into Prussia's arms. Germany didn't know if it was possibly to hug a bird, but Prussia pulled it off pretty well.

"Thanks, West!" Prussia smiled, ruffling his hair. "You're awesome!"

"What're you going to name him?" Germany asked.

"_Gilbird_!" Prussia laughed as if that was the funniest thing in the world. "You know, like _Gilbert_, but with 'bird'!"

"Yeah, I get it" Germany huffed.

Well, he didn't know what he was expecting anyway.

* * *

_**Guess who was watching Pocahontas while writing this chapter? Oh well, I love that movie, even if it is totally historically inaccurate. **_

_**I don't know if 'Gilbird' is the official-'n'-canon name for Prussia's chick, but I love that little pun, so it's official here. Welcome to Ninja-Verse, where everything I want to be cannon, IS cannon! **_

_**Oh, and if you didn't notice, the song that Germany sings to Gilbird is the English translation of the song Prussia sang to Germany WAY back when, in chapter 2. Feels like a long time ago, huh? So anyways, a reviewer, **_Juvelia (Guest)_**, sent me the correct translation of the song. I figured it'd be cool to reuse the song in English. If you're reading this, **_Juvelia_**, thanks!**_

_**In Shades of Blue, **_

_**Ninja **_


	27. Chapter 27

_**This might be the last brother-cute drabble chapter for a bit, unless I magically get an idea (which is pretty unlikely, since I had to really think and strive for this one), so you better fucking enjoy it. **_

_**I wuv you guys :3 **_

_~ * ~ * 27 ~ * ~ *_

Saturdays were always slow in Germany's house, and that was usualy because Prussia wanted to do nothing but lay on his fat ass all day. Germany didn't mind, he was already convinced that Prussia had an absolute 0% influence on his life.

What struck him as odd, though, was that Prussia usually dragged himself downstairs (still wrapped up in a blanket) at noon, and would ask / demand Germany to order out because he was "starving". Germany still had his mini-phobia of talking to strangers via telephone, but he was getting better at it.

It was almost one in the afternoon, now, and Prussia was still cooped up in his room.

It took Germany a while to realize that something just might be wrong. By the time the clock read 1:55 and Prussia still hadn't come down for food, Germany decided that something was officially wrong.

He headed upstairs, his puppies following him, and opened the door to Prussia's room. The albino nation was still curled up in his sheets, his head hidden under a pillow. He didn't look like he wanted to come out soon.

"Prussia?" Germany asked. "Uh . . . are you awake?"

There was a bit of grumbling in response.

"Oh, uh, ok," Germany bit his lower lip. "Are you hungry?"

There was some more muttering.

"What was that?" Germany asked.

". . . No . . ." Prussia grumbled.

"_What_?" Germany exclaimed. "It's been a whole night since you last ate! Aren't you starving? I mean, it's past noon, so you must be more that starving!"

". . . Not really . . ." Prussia's voice was muffled and next to emotionless.

"Don't you want food?"

". . . No . . ."

"If you don't eat, you won't get any nutrition. If that happens, I'll be taller than you when I grow up. Do you really want to be smaller than your little brother?"

". . . I don't care . . ."

"I could order Chinese"

". . . I don't want it . . ."

"Come on, Prussia, you love Chinese food!"

". . . Not now, West . . ."

Germany smirked. "I'll start calling you Onii-Chan if you get out of bed. I swear I will"

There was a pause.

". . . No, you won't . . ." Prussia muttered after what felt like an eternity of silence.

"Yes, I will," Germany assured him.

". . . You're lying to me . . ." Prussia murmured.

"No, I'm not"

" . . . West, I just want to be alone . . ."

"But, Prussia—"

"_Goddammit, Germany!_" Prussia snapped, scowling at his brother. "_The one damn time I want you to leave me alone, you're suddenly Mr. Brotherly-Quality-Time? For once in your life, could you just do what I fucking tell you to do?_"

For a moment, Germany just stared at him, wide-eyed and almost afraid. But he swallowed, reminded himself that only an idiot would be scared of Prussia, and turned on his heels and exited the room. A few seconds after leaving, he could hear Prussia mutter: "Great, now _I'm_ the bad guy."

Germany quickly picked up the phone and dialed the Chinese place they always ordered take-out from. It had gotten to a point where Chan-Juan, one of the waitresses who worked there, already knew them by name and what they always wanted to order.

Because of his familiarity with the staff, the food arrived faster than it would for anyone else's household. Grabbing a few forks, Germany headed back up to Prussia's room. He was usually completely against eating food on anything other than a plate, but this was Prussia's room anyways.

"Prussia?" Germany asked, walking in.

Prussia grumbled awake. "Didn't I tell you to—?"

Germany picked up one of his puppies (Gold, since he was the fluffiest) and held him up to Prussia's face. Just like he'd been trained to do, the little Golden Retriever puppy licked Prussia on the nose. Prussia scrunched up his face a bit, and then giggled like a schoolgirl.

Germany smiled only because he knew Prussia's eyes were closed. On any other day, Prussia would never have snapped at him. Germany could tell instantly that he was aggravated, annoyed, sad, and miserable. He obviously needed some cheering up. And what's a better way to cheer someone up that with some good 'ol puppy therapy?

"Do you want to hold him?" Germany offered.

"Y-yeah," Prussia sat up in his bed, happily accepting the puppy and hugging him close to his chest. "Oh―he's so fluffy!"

Germany climbed onto his bed, taking out containers of all sorts of Chinese food. "I ordered take-out. I figure your starving right now"

"You know me so well," Prussia sighed, accepting a plastic box of fried rice and a fork, all while not letting go of Gold. Strangely, the little puppy didn't try to squirm out of Prussia's grasp, as if saying: _I'm here for you, bro_.

They ate in silence for a few moments, until Prussia spoke. "I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier, West, I was being mean"

"It's alright," Germany said, sticking a fork full of Lo-Mein noodles in his mouth. "I know you're not feeling well today"

"Yeah . . ." Prussia's voice trailed off, and he tightened his grip on Gold. "West, do you know what day it is?"

Germany thought for a second, worrying that he accidentally forgot some kind of holiday or anniversary or Prussia's birthday (_that_ would be chaos). After deciding that he hadn't forgotten anything, he answered confidently. "Saturday?"

"August 17th," Prussia closed his eyes as if remembering something. "1786"

"Um, the year isn't 1786, Prussia," Germany said.

Prussia opened his eyes. "I-I know, West, it's just that . . . someone very important to me died today, a very long time ago. This is the anniversary of his death"

"I'm . . . I'm sorry," Germany whispered.

"Don't be, that old geezer lived a very long life, very happy life," Prussia smiled. "I should know; I was with him every step of the way. My only regret is that you never got to meet him, West," he stuck a spoonful of rice in his mouth. "I'm sure you would have loved him as much as I did"

"I'm sure I would've, too," Germany sighed, and then decided to change the mood. "Can we go see a movie? I really wanna see either_ Epic_ or _Star Trek_"

Prussia smirked; hugging the puppy close to him and throwing the empty box into the trash can that sat on the other side of the room. It landed in the trash perfectly.

"Sure, just let me get dressed," he snuggled Gold up to his face. "This dog's coming with us"

* * *

_**King**_ _**Fredrick "Old Fritz" II of Prussia, January 24**__**th**__**, 1712 – August 17**__**th**__**, 1786 **_

_**Considering I don't know if this story is going to go on until the actual anniversary of his death, this chapter is my little tribute to Fredrick the Great. He's important to Prussia, so I figured he should be included. Long live Uncle Fritz!**_

_**Sorry that this was another kind of depressing and not funny chapter, but at least it was cute . . . right? **_

_**By the way, completely on coincidence, August 17**__**th**__** this year is actually on a Saturday. I only checked after I decided that it was to be set on a Saturday; weird, huh?**_

_**Lastly, my sister's account here is purplecookieninja (I was on this site FIRST so I'm still the one who uses the nickname 'Ninja'!) and she's got some Hetalia stories. If writing is a family gene, then you should check out her stories! Really, you should! But if you start calling her 'Ninja' I might have to kill you. **_

_**In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_

_**PS **_Don't Tell Them I'm Not Real_**,**_ _**the bagpipes exit is back. Thanks for noticing, though. :)**_


	28. Chapter 28

_**This is the arc I have been preparing for, people! And thanks for all the reviews, and in the words of my sister, "they make me feel all warm and fuzzy and shit". This may be a little much, but I love you guys. **_

_**. . . Don't take that the wrong way.**_

_**~ * ~ * 28 ~ * ~ ***_

"Italy, what the hell is going on?"

It's funny how often Germany found himself saying that. The little Italian smiled at him, ignoring his choice of vocabulary and gestured to the soccer field around him.

"A game!" Italy smiled, gesturing to his uniform, which was red and green with the Italian crest on the side, with the words '_Nord Italia_' below it. "We're gonna play _futebol_, Germany-Kun!"

"Why?" Germany raised an eyebrow.

"'Cause it's fun," Italy smiled. "The winner gets the trophy," he pointed to a shiny gold trophy that was, in fact, sitting on the announcer's booth, where Canada and America sat proudly with cups of coffee and headsets.

"Why aren't they playing?" Germany asked.

"Oh, 'cause they suck at _futebol_," Italy said with the most innocent smile.

"_Uh, excuse me; we only suck because we want to!_" America's voice boomed across the field.

"_Y-yeah_!" Canada's voice said, and his voice still seemed soft and kind even when it was projected across a large field.

"_This sport is stupid_!" America exclaimed.

"_U-um, yeah!_" Canada sounded unsure.

"_By the way, good luck South Korea! Now go and kick some serious ass!_"

"_Y—_" Canada paused, looked down, and then muttered into the microphone. "_Go Argentina_"

Germany took his seat in the audience, seeing the first match starting. South Korea's outfit was similar to Italy's, though it was red and blue, with the South Korean flag design with '대한민국' written below it. Argentina's was blue and white, with the Argentinian crest and the word '_Argentina_' written below it. The two chibi nations shook hands, Argentina quickly wiping his hands on his pants afterwards (he claimed he was allergic to the unfashionable).

"_Gooooooood afternoon, everybody!_" America's voice boomed louder than it usually would have been. "_It's a beautiful summer day, the perfect day for the first annual FIFA World Cup!_"

"FIFA World Cup?" Germany asked.

"It's the name we decided on," Italy told him.

"Where was I when all of this happened?" Germany asked.

"I came by your house yesterday, but you didn't answer it," Italy said. "Mama said not to bother you, though, something about Pru-Kun being in a bad mood."

Germany shrugged in response.

"_This is the first game of the season_,_ so anything can happen_," Canada said. "_Say, America, who're you betting your money on_?"

"_I say you can't go wrong with betting on a South American nation__**,**_" America said. "_But I do have a dollar or two on South Korea_"

"_That's only because you two are _best friends," Canada's tone was a bit grumpy. "_To be honest, my bet's on Argentina, he's got a bit more practice in this game_"

At that moment, the game had started. Argentina smiled and blew kisses at the crowd, running a hand through his blonde hair and making poses that could easily make the cover page of any _Tiger Beat _magazine (If Germany hadn't known any better, he would've guessed that him and France were related.) South Korea looked at the crowd, and turned a brighter shade of red than he should've when he saw China smiling at him.

Thailand, being the referee (thinking that soccer was too violent a game), set the ball in between the two and then blew his whistle. South Korea didn't hesitate to kick the ball, instantly making his way towards Argentina's goal.

"_And South Korea's got the first move, not hesitating for a second_," America announced. "_And holy hell, that little Asian can run, can't he, Canada?_"

"_Yes siree, that might have been the quickest move in one-on-one soccer history_," Canada admitted, but that fact didn't seem to exactly excite him.

However, Argentina didn't seem so discouraged about it. He rushed forward, and in the blink of an eye, he had the ball back. With a single powerful kick, the ball soared over and entangled itself in the net. There was a stunned silence, and Argentina studied his nails for a second, allowing everyone to comprehend his move.

" _. . . So that just happened_," America's voice said.

"_It's seems that Argentina stole the ball from South Korea and made a goal, all under ten seconds. Maybe even less than that, folks, that was amazing_," Canada let out a low whistle. "_Oh, and, uh . . . . GOOOAAALLLLLL!_"

Getting over his shock, South Korea and Argentina returned to the center field. However, no one was as attentive as they were before. After that move, it was pretty clear that South Korea was toast. Even so, Brazil, Mexico, and Ecuador were cheering incredibly hard for South Korea.

But after Argentina's 'Move-of-Fame', the excitement seemed to die down. Even South Korea seemed to have accepted his fate after the third time Argentina stole the ball from him without any trouble. The game only lasted around twenty minutes, and the final score was 0 – 5.

"_Time's up, game over, and Argentina wins_!" Canada exclaimed, jumping up and down in excitement. "_I think you owe me some money, America, because South Korea LOST_! _Congratulations to Argentina_!"

"_There's no need to rub it in_," America rolled his eyes. "_The next game will be Argentina verses, uh . . . who's gonna play against Argentina? I think Romano's stupid enough_"

"I heard that!" Romano shouted.

"_Of course you did, I'm talking into a microphone_," America announced. "_We're going to take a short break now, but stay tuned for the next game, which will be when a player is decided. Plus I'm extremely thirsty and I would like a snack. Canada, will you take over from here?_"

"_Stay tuned, we'll be right back_" Canada smiled.

* * *

_**Anyone remember the South Korea - Canada controversy that happened a couple chapters back? See, see, it's ironic 'cause they're like biffles now. (I'm in Poland mode, sorry.)**_

_**Sorry if this chapter was too short, but I plan to get at least a game or two per chapter. **_

_**And that's where you guys come in. **_

_**In reviews, tell me who you want to play against who, and who you want to win ultimately. I don't trust myself to decide a winner because I know that I'll probably choose Brazil even if it isn't fair (which it would be, considering Brazil won 5 FREAKING TIMES), so I'm going to let you guys decide. **_

_**In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


	29. Chapter 29

_**I love all you guys for reviewing and I really appreciate you taking the time to review my story with what you think of it, your critique, your language help, and your requests and votes. I love you guys; you're like my little Internet children. Sorry if that sounded creepy, so in conclusion: I do love you guys.**_

_**But to that one guest reviewer who said that I need "to let down on all the gayness because it's kinda making you sick": you're an ass. **_

_**Sorry if I'm overreacting, but that seems a little wrong to me. But still, thanks for the review.**_

_**Any-whore, the current votes for the winners are (and this isn't final, this arc's not over yet):**_

_**Italy (3)**_

_**Japan (1)**_

_**Romano (1)**_

_**Seychelles (1)**_

_**~ * ~ * 29 ~ * ~ ***_

By the time Germany actually got to enter the game, a good number of matches had already come and gone.

Brazil had challenged Argentina for the next match, and that game seemed to be the equivalent of water and fire playing a game of 'first one to get weak dies'.

For starters, the two nearly killed each other for the ball. But Brazil was able to wrestle it from him and kick it straight to the goal, no other moves needed. It seemed like something as simple as scoring a goal was enough of an excuse for Argentina to attack him completely.

Technically, he did attack him completely. But that's a-ok, because this is soccer, and as long as you don't use your hands, almost anything is ok. Then again, maybe Germany would actually believe that rule if he thought anyone's "injuries" were actually real. After watching a couple of matches, he quickly discovered that soccer players are actors in a different uniform. A tap on the shoulder can yet you a yellow card if the other guy plays it off well enough (and 'well enough' isn't very much in the ref's rulebook, apparently).

"_Well, America, it seems that all possible penalties have been forgotten in this game_," Canada announced. "_Those two are killing each other out there; it's a neck-and-neck fight for something as simple as the second game of the Cup_!"

"_You're absolutely right, Canada,_" America's voice boomed. "_I mean, hey, ref! Does your girlfriend know you're screwing us?_"

"He better not have a girlfriend!" China exclaimed.

"Do not worry, my adoptive father," Thailand gave a respectful bow, his hands not even touching while in a prayer-looking gesture.

By the time the time had run out, Brazil had won 5-4, and the two of them got into a fist fight over the argument of whether or not Brazil cheated. By the time Thailand was able to separate the two of them, both were covered in bruises, grass stains, and Brazil's cheek had gotten a scratch from Argentina's nails. Not to mention the two of them were disqualified for violence before a rematch could even be considered.

The next game was Peru vs. Mexico, and considering Peru refused to trade in her sandals for a pair of tennis shoes, the game seemed to already be decided before it even began.

Given her choice of footwear, Peru was slower than Mexico, who was already extremely fast and agile to begin with. And only mere seconds after making her first goal did Peru trip over her sandals and land face-first in the grass.

"_Annnnddd Peru takes a fall to the face_," America announced. "_I've gotta say, as pretty as those shoes are, are they really the right thing to wear during a soccer game?_"

"_Sorry, Peru, I'm siding with my brother on this one,_" Canada shook his head. "_Those sandals are only causing trouble_"

Peru grumbled in annoyance, stood up, wiped the grass stains off her uniform (red and white, with the Peruvian crest on the corner with '_Perú_' written beneath it), and then took off her sandals and threw them into the crowd. They hit Ecuador straight in the forehead.

"I'm not giving these back!" he exclaimed, sticking his tongue out at her.

"_On a random turn of events, Peru has ditched her flip-flops_," America said. "_And I say 'random' because Canada and I _did not _bully her into playing soccer barefoot_"

Even after getting rid of her shoes, Peru still lost to Mexico, who won 3-5. After Mexico briefly celebrated his victory, he was challenged by Italy. A hushed silence fell over the crowd; this whole tournament was Italy's idea. Was he working this out to his advantage? Maybe he had a whole team of burly Italian soccer players whose mission was to crush a certain little Mexican chibi boy in a game of what's supposed to be one-on-one soccer.

"_It seems that the founder of the FIFA World Cup, a Mr. Italy Venet-Vene-Ven-Ve-Ve-_ _Veneziano! A Mr. Italy Veneziano Vargas,_" America shook his head, getting over his little tongue-tied fit. "_It seems that everyone is curious to see if Mr. Ve . . . Mr. Vene―_"

"_If Mr. V has anything up his sleeve_," Canada finished for his brother.

Italy and Mexico shook hands respectively, and then took off to play. For a boy who used to wear dresses in his spare time, Italy was actually pretty good at this game. He ran with amazing speed and had an agility that allowed him to practically slide across the field as if it were made out of ice.

Anyone else would think that Mexico wasn't panicking, and that he had everything covered. But if you had good eyes, like Germany, you could see the sweat beading down his forehead and the tired look in his eyes. The poor boy was losing stamina fast, and it didn't even look like Italy was breaking a sweat.

The game did last long, as neither of them wanted to go down without a fight. It was the longest game of the cup so far, about fifteen or twenty minutes of intense survival of the fittest soccer. And when the game ended, it was 7-8, Italy winning by one point in the last minute of the game.

Germany smiled and clapped along with the rest of them. Mexico and Peru were out, while Argentina and Brazil got disqualified. That meant that four of the biggest challenges were out, three of which were incredibly serious about the game of soccer. Cuba and Ecuador were good, as were the other Latin American countries, so if they didn't get out, the European nations really didn't have much of a chance.

And since the Latin American nations were most likely going to eat each other alive in this game, the winner seemed pretty obvious to Germany: Italy. The boy could play soccer incredibly well and he didn't have any sort of rivalry with anyone. He didn't have to worry about one of his 10+ brothers or sisters keeping a grudge and deciding to brutally crush him at soccer. All the Latin chibis were waiting out to play against whoever they hated in their "siblings" group, so they wouldn't be at full focus against him. And since the Latin Americans were the real challenge, anyone going up against Italy was screwed.

"_And we have a close-called victory for Italy against Mexico, who scored his winning point in the last minute of the game_," Canada announced. "_Given that we don't allow ties, that game was also the longest game of the Cup so far. It looks like a European's first game was also the first game won by a European, huh, America_?"

"_Right you are, Canada,_" America said. "_Now, it's Italy's turn to pick a challenger. We're lucky he landed on the winner gets to pick the challenger card, I don't think anyone would want to challenge Italy at this point_"

Italy smiled, jumped up and down while clapping his hands, and then pointed directly into the crowd.

He pointed, unmistakably, at Germany.

"You!" Italy smiled, innocently. "I wanna _you_ to play against me, Germany-Kun!"

* * *

_**Sorry these chapters are so short, but I've to fit a lot of games into this story. Do you know how long a FIFA World Cup actually lasts? Months at a time, people, and I should know. I had a sticker book for all the players while I was living in Brazil. I never did fill it out, but buying the mystery card packs and filling the books out for the players for every country was fun. Not to mention it was a huge hit with kids. **_

_**Anyways, I'm still taking game requests. Don't forget to vote for who you want to win!**_

_**In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja**_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!* **_


	30. Chapter 30

_**Sorry this chapter took so long, I seriously wanted to write this short story and . . . you get the idea. **_

_**I'm going to get straight to the point, here are the current votes stats (note, these are by chapter, not viewer)**_

_**Germany (2)**_

_**Italy (8)**_

_**Romano (2)**_

_**Japan (2)**_

_**Seychelles (1)**_

_**Can I just say that you guys are awesome? When I called that guest reviewer an ass, a good number of you said I reminded you of Austria. **_

_**Did you guys know I have a mega crush on Austria or . . .?**_

_**Either way, that decided it for me: you guys are the most awesome readers ever! **_

_**~ * ~ * 30 ~ * ~ ***_

"I don't even know how to play soccer!" Germany exclaimed. When Italy tried to reassure him by walking a step closer to him holding a soccer ball, he scrambled back onto the seats. He'd climbed back up at least four seats before Prussia grabbed him and made him sit on his lap.

"Oh, _Drágám_, it's easy!" Hungary smiled. "You kick the ball into Ita-Chan's goal and you don't use your hands. You also can't let Ita-Chan get the ball into your goal. _Érti_?"

"No! How am I supposed to understand what you mean when you say it in Hungarian?!" Germany exclaimed, latching onto his brother's shirt. "Prussia, don't let them make me play!"

"Awwww, West!" Prussia hugged him closer. "Of _course _you don't have to _play~_!"

"Thanks," Germany said.

"But only if you call me Onii-Chan," Prussia said, smiling.

Germany thought for a minute, and then jumped out of Prussia's lap. "It's not worth it"

Thailand walked over, handing him a uniform. It was black and red and stitched together with gold. Right below the German crest was the word '_Deutschland_'. Germany wondered who thought to go through all the trouble to get their names written in their own languages.

"_Here we go, the first Euro on Euro match so far_," America said. "_With two of the Roberto Trio playing against each other, I wonder how number three is going to support this_"

"'_Roberto Trio'?_" Canada asked.

"Ro_me, _Ber_lin_, To_kyo_," America said. "_You know, it's the beginning of their capitals. I figured they need a name_"

"_I like the name Axis_," Canada said.

"_Axis_?"

"_You know, they seem very different from each other. But even in their differences, they're connected by something. I can't really out my finger on it. It's like they're spinning on an axis_"

"_Axis sounds wimpy though. They need to sound tougher. Something to add to it, that makes them sound sophisticated and powerful._"

"_Like?_"

"_Like . . . like the Axis _Powers_!" America exclaimed. "Yeah, yeah! Axis Powers Trio!_"

"_Shouldn't they have a say in their own team name, America_?" Canada asked.

"_Why should they, they didn't even pick their own names, someone else did_," America pointed out with a roll of his eyes. "_Anyways, Japan must be facing some sort of controversy in the crowd, huh_?"

"I'm politely cheering on whoever wins!" Japan called. "So, uh . . . show him whose boss, Italy-Kun!" Japan then shrugged at Germany. "No offence"

"None taken," Germany grunted.

Thailand set the ball in between them, and then blew the whistle for the game to start. Italy made a run for the ball, but then kicked it straight to Germany. Germany was confused for a second, but he then kicked the ball. It went generally fast at first, but then very slowly rolled into the goal. All while Italy did nothing to stop it.

A stunned silence went over the field.

"_Yay!_" Italy smiled, jumping up and down happily while clapping his hands. "You did it, Germany-Kun!"

"_Um . . ._ _ok_," America said. "_That was either the most amazing goal I've ever seen, or the stupidest_"

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!" Romano shouted. He had Mexico sitting on his lap and he didn't let him go as soon as he began to yell at Italy. "YOU KICKED THE GODDAMN BALL RIGHT TO HIM! AND THEN YOU LET HIM MAKE THE MOTHERFUCKING GOAL?! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

"S-Sorry, Roma-Chan . . ." Italy muttered.

"_And enough with the Roma-Chan, I'm not a freaking girl_!" Romano snapped. "_It's Roma-fucking-Kun!_"

"_Did that count . . . ? Yeah, ok, it counted_" Canada after a bit of muttering with America and Thailand. "_So, um, one point for Germany, you guys_"

Germany wished he could say that the game was evenly matched, but that would be kidding himself. Italy pretty much ran circles around him, that little fucker had this game wrapped around his pinky finger. The game only lasted for about five minutes, and the ending score was something close to 1 – 7, with Italy in the lead.

"_Dear God, let's put that poor boy out of his misery_," America sighed, shaking his head. "_On that sorry note, the match is over. Italy wins by six points in the lead_"

"_YES_! _Yes, yes, yes!_" Romano jumped up in the air, nearly hugging the life out of Mexico. "_Did you see that, Me-Chan?! Did you see that?! That's my little brother!_"

Italy's smile was so big; it nearly stretched from ear to ear.

* * *

"It wasn't so bad," Japan said as America and Canada had called a break. "I mean, maybe you'll get a second chance at playing"

"I'm not sure I want a second chance," Germany said. "This game doesn't seem like much fun"

"To be honest, I prefer baseball," Japan shrugged. "But I dunno, you're European, maybe you're just not trying?"

"What do you mean 'not trying'?" Germany raised an eyebrow. "Of course I'm trying!"

"You only bothered to learn how to play the game seconds after you found out you had to play," Japan pointed out. "Not to mention you've been hiding out in your living room for a while now"

"Just because I like to sit inside and watch TV doesn't mean I've been hiding!" Germany grunted.

"It kind of does," Japan said. "Maybe you could train a little?"

"I do train! I watch the soccer games with Prussia!" Germany said in self-defense. "And I train when I change the channels on the remote! My fingers are probably the fittest fingers in the entire world! It's really hard to keep up with finger-and-hands exercise. You wouldn't understand"

Japan stared at him for a good number of minutes, and then slowly raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever considered the fact that maybe you're just extremely lazy?"

"Lazy? I'm not lazy!" Germany snapped. "I have a tight schedule and I keep up all the responsibilities and I do everything in my house! I'm hardly lazy—!"

"That just means you're organized and responsible," Japan said. "Not active"

"I . . . I . . ." Germany sighed.

"You need professional help," Japan said. "Lucky for you, I know a professional"

"Who?" Germany asked.

"_Me_!" Japan exclaimed, grabbing him by the shoulders excitedly. "Ninjas have to go through intense physical training to become ninjas, if anyone here is active, it's me! I can help you!" he smirked, making a smug gesture while holding his chin. Germany could've sworn he saw a little star come off him. "We start ASAP"

* * *

_**Sorry if this was too short, I'm trying to fit two plotlines into one arc here, people!**_

_**You know what I really want to write? An AU story. But I can't think of anything . . . damn. Well, there's my warning to you that I'm trying to write another Hetalia story.**_

_** Translations:**_

_****__ Drágám: Hungarian for "sweetheart"_

_****____ Érti: Hungarian for "do you understand"_

_****____ If anyone speaks Hungarian, feel free to correct me. Obviously, I'm not a Hungarian speaker. _

_** In Shades of Blue,**_

_** Ninja **_

_** *BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


	31. Chapter 31

_**Guess whose flight to Brazil got delayed, and guess who couldn't sleep on the plane, and ending up drawing and writing on her laptop until past 4 in the morning—THIS GIRL!**_

_**So yeah, this is the official beginning of my vacation, considering my families going on a one-month trip to Brazil (I have family over there). I've been going there ever since I was born, and considering how bored I got last summer . . . I'll probably be updating more frequently. It really depends, considering last year was pretty short-notice. **_

_**This is a break from the World Cup thing, but it's not a different arc. Think of it like half-time. So I'm not going to post the stats here. Just enjoy!**_

_**~ * ~ * 31 ~ * ~ ***_

"Run, Germany, run, run, run, run, _run_!"

"I'm running!" Germany shouted, and then muttered. "Goddamn it, Japan," under his breath. The little Asian nation had had him running laps around the neighborhood's track field for half an hour now, and he was getting more and more exhausted by the second.

"My sister runs faster than you!" Japan snapped. "Pick up the pace, Gretel!"

Germany huffed in annoyance, running a bit faster for a couple of seconds and then returning to his normal pace. He then screamed and then jumped back when a silver ninja star suddenly lodged itself in the concrete, just millimeters from his foot.

"_What the hell, Japan_?!" Germany shrieked.

"Don't slow down!" Japan snapped. "Or else you'll lose a toe!"

Germany ran as fast as his feet allowed him, and even when sweat started pouring down his forehead, he didn't stop running. In fact, he ran faster. When he made a complete lap, he collapsed onto the concrete, panting his lungs out.

"Good work," Japan said, clicking the stop watch off. "When you actually started trying, you made in a little over fifteen minutes"

"_Only—Only b-because you threw ninja stars at me_!" Germany snapped. "_You're crazy_!"

"I'm not crazy, I'm strict" Japan said. "And laziness isn't a winning factor. Soccer is all about speed, Germany-San; you have to be able to keep up with Italy and the Hispanic Nations"

"I've―a-already—lost—to—Italy," Germany panted. "S-So—why—does it—r-really—matter?"

"The game isn't final, Germany-San," Japan said. "If you get picked by random or if someone challenges you, you'll get a chance to play again. You have to be ready for that chance"

"I—I—I m-made—an idiot—of—myself—o-out there," Germany sighed, still catching his breath. "W-why the hell would any—one p-pick me?"

"Because you're the underdog," Japan said.

"W-what—what did you just call me?" Germany asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It means you're the least likely to win, considering Canada and America aren't playing," Japan said, and before Germany could defend himself, Japan continued. "Let's say it's the last game of the Cup and you're about to win, and you get to pick your challenger. Unless if you're stupid or extremely arrogant, you're not going to pick a tough player or someone who has a chance at beating you. You'd either pick someone who has an equal chance of winning, which means you're fair. Or you pick someone who has a 99% chance of losing, which means you're smart. And right now, Germany, if there's anyone who has a 99% chance of losing, it's you. No offence"

"Fuck you," Germany growled.

"I get that a lot," Japan shrugged. "Anyways, get up. You need to build up stamina, so let's go, go, _go_!"

Germany scrambled to his feet before Japan could throw anything at him and then began running. He was able to run half a lap this time before slowing down, and then sped up when Japan threw a ninja star at him. This one snagged his t-shirt.

Japan made him run three more laps before handing him a water bottle. "Take a three minute break"

"What happened to a five minute break?" Germany asked, taking a big gulp of water.

"Five minute breaks are for pussies, Germany, I'm trying to turn you into a man," Japan crossed his arms.

"I thought you were turning me into a soccer player," Germany raised an eyebrow.

"Same difference," Japan said. "Now break's over, get up. We're doing goalie practice"

Germany stood in front of the goal, holding out his hands in front of him. He looked to the left, and then right, and then gave Japan a puzzled look. He then straightened his posture and held out his arms in confusion. "So what now—?"

He was cut off when a soccer ball hit him square in the chest. He flew backwards, crashing into the net with the wind knocked straight out of him. The ball rolled straight back to Japan, who shook his head and clicked his tongue in disappointment.

"That was pathetic, Germany," Japan said.

"What—? _You didn't tell me you were going to kick a ball at me_!" Germany snapped.

"And neither will your opponent," Japan pointed out. "You have to be ready and on your guard at all times, Germany-San"

"How am I supposed to train to kick the ball when you won't even tell me when you're going to—?" before Germany could even finish his sentence, a soccer ball completely slammed him in the face.

"You let your guard down again," Japan called. "Don't let your guard down!"

"Lesson . . . learned . . ." Germany muttered, rubbing the red area of his forehead. He got to his feet, dusted the grass stains off of his shorts, and then looked up just in time to get hit in the shins with a soccer ball.

"Don't hesitate!" Japan exclaimed. "If you see stains on your clothes, ignore them! Let nothing distract you!"

"This is stupid!" Germany snapped. "And it isn't going to make me a better soccer player!"

"Come on, Germany, what would Scooby do?" Japan smiled.

"He'd run away crying for Shaggy to help him," Germany answered with a blank expression.

"Scooby Doo is the only member of Mystery Inc. who doesn't get a salary, don't be like Scooby Doo," Japan said quickly. He set the ball down in front of him, and then looked back up at Germany. "Prussia-San loves soccer, Germany. Imagine how happy he'll be if you win that Cup"

Germany hesitated, wiping the sweat off his forehead, and then smiled. "He'd be really proud, wouldn't he?"

"Definitely," Japan said with a nod. "I think he might even cry"

"Prussia doesn't cry. Not unless he's watching some kind of Spanish Soap Opera with Spain and France"

"I think he would if you won. Prussia-San adores you, Germany, winning that Cup would just be like the chocolate on Pocky"

"The chocolate is the best part!"

"Exactly; something that was amazing before just made better"

Germany thought for a moment, and then sighed. "Alright, now train me—" he was cut off as Japan kicked another soccer ball towards him. The ball hit him in the legs, so his knees buckled and he fell face first into the dirt.

"Concentrate!" Japan snapped. "Don't go all soft on me just because I mentioned your brother!"

"Hey, I wasn't ready—!" Germany exclaimed in self-defense.

"_You're never ready, this is soccer_!" Japan yelled, kicking another soccer ball at him. This one hit him in the cheek, leaving an impact similar to a slap from an angry ex-girlfriend. "_Now play this game and make mama proud_!"

"But I live with my brother!" Germany shouted, the ball hitting him in the chest. He nearly felt his soul leave his body.

"_Then make him proud_!" Japan said, kicking the ball over to him. It didn't hit him this time, but it still made a goal. "Hey, don't dodge it!"

"It's going to hit me!" Germany exclaimed.

"So, don't _let_ it hit you!" Japan retorted. "Catch it!"

The next twenty minutes of their "training" consisted of Japan kicking a ball at him, and Germany getting brutally hit in just about every inch of his body. It hadn't been that long since they'd begun, and Germany already ached all over and was just about to give up. He hadn't liked soccer before, and now he was _this close_ to hating it.

"Come _on_, Germany!" Japan shouted. "Are you even trying?"

By the time the next ball came at him, Germany had had enough. He was tired. He was hurt. He didn't even want to play this stupid game in the first place, hell; he didn't even _like_ this game. He was fed up with getting pushed around, and he was definitely sick of Japan walking all over him when Germany was taller by at least a foot.

"_Stop HITTING ME_" Germany snapped, kicking the ball back with all the force in his right leg. Japan's eyes widened as the ball hit him square in the chest, making him fly back a few feet and skid onto the grass. The little Asian boy blinked, clutching the soccer ball in his tiny hands, and not moving from his spot.

"Japan . . .?" Germany asked carefully. "Are you . . . are you ok?"

Japan blinked for the hundredth time, and then stood up, brushing the grass stains off his shorts and handing the soccer ball back to Germany. "You have some potential, Germany. That was a good kick"

"Thanks," Germany smiled. "Does this mean I'm done training?"

"Oh, fuck no," Japan smirked, and his eyes were as angry as angry can get. "You just got lucky. Now run another three laps, you're still slower than Romano in the mornings, which is saying something"

"But—!" Germany sighed. "Yeah, yeah"

"Oh, and by the way," Japan smirked. "You may only refer to me as 'sir', 'sempai', or 'coach'. Understood?"

* * *

_**Japan's just got some tough love going on; it's not exactly a bad thing, right? And if it is, can someone please email my mom about it? If I have to check the calories on the back of a box one more time I'm going to explode. **_

_**Yeah, my mom's a fitness freak. **_

_**The World Cup theme is going to back up and running by the next chapter. **_

_**In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja**_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


	32. Chapter 32

_**Aw, you guys are too sweet. I've gotta thank you guys for reading these chapters even over the summer; I bet you're all busy, since it's vacation and all. Anyways, I love reading your reviews, and I love you guys!**_

_**~ * ~ * 32 ~ * ~ ***_

"_It's a gorgeous day, the sky is clear, the clouds are the puffiest puffballs I've ever seen_," America announced. "_We're getting close to the semi-finals, with the runners up being North Italy, South Italy, Belarus, Seychelles, Uruguay, Japan, Kosovo, and South Korea. Any thoughts, Canada?_"

"_Well, America, I'd say the most interesting part was South Korea's bounce back after his rather, eh-hem, humiliating defeat by Argentina. Considering Argentina's disqualification, though, I bet it was rather easy to get back up in the finals_" Canada said.

"_You seriously don't like that guy, don't you?_"

"_Why, no, America; no I don't_"

"_Moving on, this next game is another interesting factor in the world of cliché dramatic movies: a brother versus brother moment. The current games are north Italy versus south Italy, Belarus versus South Korea, Japan versus Kosovo, and Uruguay versus Seychelles. The winners of this game decide who goes onto the semi-finals. My bets on the winners are Italy, Belarus, and Seychelles. What do you think, Canada?_"

"_Frankly, I'm surprised that Japan made it to the semi-semi-finals, he doesn't seem very much into this game. But I guess it's hard to catch up with someone that you can't see. However, I've gotta agree with you, America, my bet for winner is on Italy, no doubt_"

The field was now divided into fours, with two people on each prepared to play. Most people were just excited for the finals, so the quarter-to-finals and semi-finals weren't considered very exciting. So basically, the idea was to get these four games to fly by as fast as possible.

Even though these games weren't as anticipated as the finals, there was still a large crowd there to watch the game. Some people had even gone as far as to get flags for whoever they were cheering for. The most obvious colors was the red, white, and green of Italy, the red dot of Japan, the red and blue yin and yang sign of South Korea, and the stitched pattern of Belarus.

The first (and most fawned over) game was Italy versus Romano. The two shook hands, and in the crowd, Mexico leapt up into the air and waved around his Italian flag.

"_Go Roma-Nii-Chan_!" Mexico shouted at the top of his lungs, and France had to grab him in fear that he'd jump off the bleachers (Spain was too busy freaking out about how cute he was to be bothered by his safety).

Spain wasn't the only one fawning over Mexico, as Romano seemed a little too distracted by the fact that his "little brother" was cheering for him. Romano was smiling like an idiot, while Italy, however, wasn't. He had the cutest little look of complete and total malice as he kicked the ball straight across the field and into the net.

"_Motherfucker_!" Romano exclaimed as soon as he noticed that Italy made a goal. "Why the hell would you do that, I wasn't ready!"

"Then be ready!" Italy snapped.

Romano narrowed his eyes, and then the message became clear: it's _on_. The two Italians were like chibi blurs dashing around the field, fighting over the ball as if it were worth a million dollars.

"_What—what's going on_?_ Has anyone scored_?" America asked, glancing at Thailand.

"Italy scored twice, Romano scored once," Thailand held up his score card. "So it's 2-1"

"_And there you have it folks, a typical European soccer game_!" Canada announced. "_Italy wins by the point that he back-stabbed his brother to get!_"

Romano headed back into the stands, where he was tackle-hugged by Mexico. The little boy looked to be close to tears in happiness, his eyes sparkling with admiration.

"Me-Chan, I lost," Romano reminded him, but he still hugged the little boy back.

"You almost beat him!" Mexico exclaimed. "_You almost beat him and it didn't take forever_! I took me twenty minutes and I still lost! If he hadn't cheated with that first point, you probably would've won!"

"I didn't _cheat_," Italy huffed in annoyance. "He was _distracted_"

"_And Italy is the first to move on to the semi-finals_," America announced. "_Our next game is one of my best friends in this whole wide world versus my ever-so-pleasant ex-wife_"

"We never got married, America, I'm not your ex!" Belarus snapped.

"_I think you can guess who we're cheering for in the announcer's booth_," Canada said. "_As a smart man once said, denial never won a soccer game_"

"No one says that!" Belarus raised an eyebrow.

The two shook hands, and instantly South Korea shook his hand out of pain after she let got.

"She's got a strong grip, da-ze," South Korea said, trying to smile off the pain.

One could see North Korea in the crowd, and he'd gone so far as to paint the South Korean symbol (the red-and-blue yin and yang symbol with the black lines all around it) on his left cheek. "_Do this for Korea_!"

By the time the game started, South Korea made a run for the ball, but a death glare from Belarus made him back up a couple of paces and offer her a safe route to the net. She smiled, and then kicked it straight to the goal.

"_Ok, what the fuck_?!" North Korea shouted.

"She's scary!" South Korea exclaimed, and the poor boy looked like she was about to cry.

The rest of the game seemed to go by similarly; if South Korea got anywhere near the ball, Belarus would give him a look that could set cracks in concrete. By the time the game ended, it was 4-0, with Belarus in the lead.

"_And Belarus has won this round with the same technique that lead to our divorce_!" America announced.

"You're six years old, America; you getting a divorce would be illegal!" Britain exclaimed.

"_Not in Vegas, it isn't_!" America smirked.

"_Anyways, our next game is Seychelles versus Uruguay_," Canada said. "_Surprisingly, Uruguay is the only Latin Country to make it to the semi-finals_"

"Go Paraguay!" Italy exclaimed.

"His name is _Uruguay_!" Paraguay shouted angrily.

"_We don't even look alike_!" Paraguay and Uruguay exclaimed at the same time. Which was true, Paraguay was darker skinned and whore glasses while Uruguay was blonde. But given the similarities of their names, they often got mixed up.

For such a little girl, Seychelles was actually pretty fast. But that was expected, the chibi nations would often run relay races and the winner was almost always Seychelles (with Mexico and Brazil in a close second.) Since Uruguay wasn't exactly slow either, the game was more of a race then a soccer game.

But in the end, the score was 5-6, with Seychelles in the lead.

"_Woo! That's my little sister, everybody!_" Canada shouted, excitedly. "_And Seychelles makes it to the semi-finals, it looks like we only have one more game left, and that's—_"

He paused, as he, Thailand, and America began to mutter to each other in a tight circle. For a minute, everyone wondered what was going on, until they noticed Kosovo playing with a soccer ball all by himself.

"Kosovo-San!" Thailand called. "Where is Brother Japan?"

"He's not here," Kosovo said, bouncing the ball on his knees.

"_Then where is he_?" America's voice was so loud it practically echoed, and Canada whispered to him to turn off his microphone.

"I dunno," Kosovo shrugged. "He's just not here"

"Can we just make Kozzy-Chan the winner?" America whispered. "You know, by default?"

"We don't do default winners," Canada muttered.

"Oh, then, uh, we have an odd number . . . I guess we'll have to do a challenger for the semi-finals," America hooked his microphone back up, and then his voice boomed once more. "_Sorry, Kosovo_"

"'S ok!" Kosovo laughed, running over to the bleachers and sat next to Greece. The little boy then started playing with his 'brother's hair, smiling and saying that he would look so cute if he braided his hair.

"_Looks like either Seychelles, Belarus, or Italy is going to be choosing a challenger_," Canada said, and then whispered. "Where the hell is Japan, anyways?"

* * *

"Kick it like you mean it!" Japan yelled, lining up the soccer balls in a straight line, directly across from the net. Germany kicked each ball in the best way he could, but only about three of the seven actually made it to the goal.

"C'mon, you're not even trying!" Japan shouted. "You did an awesome kick yesterday, what happened?!"

"But, Japan—!" Germany started.

"I'm sorry, _what _did you just call me?!"

"Sorry, Coach, I just—!"

"That doesn't matter, just kick the ball!"

When Germany had kicked all of the soccer balls, Japan simply lined them up again and told him to kick them back to the goals. By the second round of trying to reach the goal, about five of the seven had made it to the goal.

Japan shook his head in disappointment. "You're legs aren't strong enough and you're still slow as fuck. Go run six more laps, and remember if you slow down I _will_ throw ninja stars at you"

Germany headed towards the track, running around as fast as he could. They'd been training for a week now and Germany could tell that he was getting stronger. It wasn't by much, but he'd been training all day from Monday to Sunday, and he could tell that he was getting stronger. Running around the track wasn't such a pain in the ass that it was when he started training. It wasn't much of a difference, but he could tell that he wasn't the same.

Maybe he should keep doing this, even when the tournament was over. It's not like he could go to the track every day, but he needed to walk his dogs, right? Maybe he could jog around the neighborhood in the mornings? Forget mornings, there's no cardio in jogging (or is there? Either way, jogging wasn't going to be enough.) He could probably join a soccer team or something, maybe the gym would allow minors. And if not, he could always come down to the track and train himself.

In the midst of his planning, he stopped when he heard Japan yelling at him. For a second he wondered what he'd done wrong this time, or if Japan had some sort of new insult about his mother.

"I told you to run six laps, not ten!" Japan exclaimed.

"What?" Germany asked.

"I said run six laps and don't slow down," Japan reminded him, talking slowly, as if was an infant. "Not run ten laps straight"

"I ran ten laps?" Germany said, biting his lower lip. He only then realized that he had sweat coming off of his forehead in a downpour. "It felt like one"

"You were going pretty fast," Japan shrugged. "I mean—hey! Where're you going?!"

"I'm just going to run a few more!" Germany shouted over his shoulder. "You said I needed to go faster, anyways! Isn't it good that I'm running more?"

"It's not good when you _enjoy it_!" Japan shouted, and then crossed his arms, but he still smirked. Ah, yes, he was in the midst of making a champion. It'd only been a week, and Germany was already really warming up to his new exercise routine. This was going well.

But still, Japan had this odd feeling that he was forgetting something.

* * *

_**Ok, a couple of things:**_

_**A few OCs that I'm using aren't actually mine. Serbia and Kosovo are the creation of **_AMBC_**, who allowed me to use them in this story. So, if you like them a lot, they're not mine. And if you hate them, they're really not mine. **_

_**Also, Paraguay and Uruguay are half mine, half **_Forever South's_**. She helped me with their characters, and I've gotta say, I love her for it. **_

_**This is actually a request for you guys. Do any of you know any good Hetalia fanfictions? The couple I don't like is UsUk, so of course, I don't really want to read fanfictions about that couple. And-a my only other-a request-a is zhat zhey don't highlight ze accents because I vhould rearry hate it if I read Japan riterarry "tarking rike this". **_

_**See? See? Isn't that annoying? **_

_**Also, I use any OCs that people request, so request away if you have any OCs that are awesome. **_

_**In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja**_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!* **_


	33. Chapter 33

_**First thing's first, you guys: THANK YOU! Nearly all of you offered me some fanfictions to read, and you all considered my dislike of UsUk. :3 You guys are totally amazing! **_

_**So, anyways, this is completely off topic. I was sitting awake in my bed at like 3 AM and I realized that I have a hell lot of Japan ships that I can't decide which is best (GiriPan, TurkPan, IggyPan, NiChu, and AmeriPan, bitches.) This lead to me realizing that I've unconsciously made Japan a complete and total whore, and making this happen:**_

_**Japan: *jokes around for once* Oh, Germany! You don't buy me flowers anymore!**_

_**Greece: who's buying you flowers?**_

_**Japan: . . . No one.**_

_**China: someone's buying you flowers, aru?**_

_**Japan: no, no one buys me flowers.**_

_**England: really? I could buy you some flowers, if you want.**_

_**Japan: no, I don't want flowers.**_

_**Turkey: you saved my life! Buying you flowers is the least I can do!**_

_**Japan: I DON'T WANT ANY OF YOU TO BUY ME FLOWERS, OK?!**_

_**. . . **_

_**America: dude, I just bought you, like, a whole thing of flowers.**_

_**Long author's note is long, anyways, on to Germany's tale!**_

_**~ * ~ * 33 ~ * ~ ***_

The semi-finals were apparently big enough to deserve an entire field for each game, but considering only two games were going to be played, that wasn't much of an honor. The first game was to be Italy versus Seychelles, and the second game was going to be Belarus versus whichever poor unfortunate soul she challenged.

"_Weeeeeeelllllcome to the semi-finals of this year's FIFA World Cup!" _America announced excitedly. "_Today's games are going to be so, so, so awesome, I'm going to need a new pair of pants by the time it's over!_"

"_Nobody wanted to hear that, America!_" Canada gave a nervous laugh. "_Anyways, this first game is Seychelles versus a crowd favorite, North Italy_"

"_I think Italy's been preparing his whole life for this day_," America said.

"_How could he have? This game only started three weeks ago_," Canada raised an eyebrow.

"_Well, he's anticipated this moment for these last three weeks,_" America shrugged. "_Just think, Canada, this Cup's lasted almost a month and it's almost over. We started out with so many potential players and now we've narrowed it down to four possible countries, while number four is a mystery. And in the end, only one can win the World Cup, only one can be a champion. Isn't this exciting?_"

"_Yes, America, for once, you're right_," Canada said.

The game started by Italy and Seychelles shaking hands, and Thailand recited the rules for the two of them. After all, this was France's little sister and boy who _just might _have connections to the mafia.

"No using hands, no illegal hits to the fact," Thailand recited. "No biting, scratching, hitting, pulling of the legs or feet, tripping, kicking, no sending animals after another, and finally, no pulling on hair, curls, braids, pigtails, ponytails, or any other article of hair or clothing. Raise your right hand and swear not to do any of that"

"_I will not us my hands, I will not make any illegal hits to the feet,_" Italy and Seychelles raised their right hands and repeated in a bored, almost robotic tone. They just wanted to play soccer, not swear an oath to petty rules. "_I will not bite, I will not scratch, I will not hit, I will not pull anyone's legs or feet, I will not trip,__I will not kick, I will not send animals after another person, and I will not pull on hair, curls, braids, pigtails, ponytails, or any other article of hair or clothing._"

Thailand nodded, and then threw the soccer ball in the air. Italy rushed towards, making a quick steal before Seychelles could even realize what was going on. The two had a fierce battle over the soccer ball before Italy made the first goal of the game.

The game seemed to continue like that for another ten minutes, it looking more like a battlefield than a soccer game. Sure, Seychelles was fast, but Italy was nothing but a red-and-green blur with a curl.

By the game's end, Italy had won, 6-2.

"_And Italy moves onto the semi-finals_," Canada announced.

"_If you ask me, bro, this game seems crystal clear,_" America added. "_I say we just hand Italy the cup right now before someone gets humiliated_"

Next, it was Belarus's turn to pick a challenger. Her icy blue eyes overlooked the crowd, while South Korea had practically swimmer-dived into the crowd to hide himself from her. Belarus smiled, and then announced her pick.

"I choose Germany," Belarus said.

There was a groan throughout the crowd, and Germany glanced around, and then pointed to himself to make sure.

"_Folks, if this was a movie, it'd be a tragedy_," America shook his head sadly.

"_Belarus made a smart move by choosing Germany, the only kid here who doesn't know how to play soccer_," Canada sighed. "_I've gotta say, I didn't know who'd have the balls to make that choice, and I didn't expect the ballsiest one to be a girl_"

"_True dat_," America clicked his tongue in disappointment. "_Honestly, that boy's only going to hurt himself out there_"

That's when Germany began to panic. He was going to die out there. Belarus was going to chew him up, spit him out, and then burn the remains before burying them. And then she'd dance on his grave. This was only going to end in ultimate humiliation.

"I can't do this," Germany turned to Japan. "She's gonna murder me alive"

"Don't listen to them, you can do this," Japan said.

"But, Coach—!" Germany exclaimed.

"Hey," Japan grabbed him by the shoulders. "I really believe that you can do this."

Germany paused. "No you don't"

"You're right, I don't," Japan shrugged. "We've only been training for three weeks, are you kidding me? But you should at least go down trying"

Germany sighed, and then headed out in the field.

"Germany!" Japan called over the sound of everyone's talk about the game. When Germany turned, Japan shouted once again. "Remember what I told you? Think of how proud Prussia'll be if you win!"

Germany swallowed, and then nodded. Belarus offered her hand, and he shook it. It took every emotional power in him not to tremble in her gaze.

Thailand threw the ball in the air, and it landed in between them. Germany got it between his feet, and Belarus gave him a look that could cause even the sky to shatter.

And in a single powerful kick, Germany kicked the ball into the net.

". . . _He made a goal_?" Canada asked, unsure. "_Well, folks, Germany finally made a goal_"

"_Weird,_" America muttered.

"_Don't get too excited, guys, remember Germany's last game with Italy_?" Canada reminded the crowd. "_He made one goal and then it was all downhill from there_"

The ball went between them again, and then the game finally seemed to start for real. The two were neck and neck, both fast, both angry, and both determined to impress someone. One could easily see both Prussia and Russia in the crowd, both waiting excitedly to see who would win.

"_Whoa, is it just me, or has Germany gotten faster?_" America announced.

"_Stronger, too_," Canada added. "_He doesn't seem like the hopeless boy who didn't even know how to play this game that he was before_"

By the last minute of the game, they were tied, 6-6. At that moment, Germany made a rush for the ball. He took the ball in the middle of his foot, and then flipped around completely. He landed flat on his face, but the ball crashed into the net.

"_OH MY GOD_!" America exclaimed. "_I think I'm hallucinating, Canada, did you see that?!_"

"_I did, I did!_" Canada looked about as wonderstruck as America did. "_That was the greatest goal I've ever seen, and no doubt the most impressive move in this Cup! Germany's made an impressive bounce back into the game! With a bicycle kick to make his winning goal, Germany wins and moves on to the finals_!"

Germany huffed, slowly picking himself off and wiping the grass stains off his uniform. He smiled, sweating and shaking hands with Belarus (who actually didn't seem so disappointed with her loss.) The crowd went wild, jumping up and down like crazy. South Korea jumped up and down, shouting "_You beat the crazy lady! You beat the crazy lady!_"

Germany smiled; happy he was going on to the finals. Maybe he could actually win this, maybe he could be a champion. Everyone else seemed to think so.

And he didn't notice it, but only one person didn't seem so excited about his win: Italy.

* * *

_**I'm thinking of writing two more stories, you know. These are the ideas:**_

"_**The Super-Awesome Untold Misadventures of Grandpa Rome" – there's a reason why some stories are better left untold. Little mini-stories of Grandpa Rome during his days as an empire, with Ancient Greece and Ancient Egypt, along with raising Chibitalia and Chibimano. Like "Prussia the Boss and Chibi Germany" it would be lots of mini adventures with no connecting plot.**_

"_**How Be Fabulous (While Getting the Guy of Your Dreams)" - title needs work. A funny-ish LietPo story on a couple of Poland's attempts to get Lithuania's attention (i.e. making him love him forever)**_

_**What do you think? Should I write them?**_

_**Anyways, once again, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE FANFICTIONS. **_

_**In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja **_

_** /watch?v=Feazzptg0ms**_

_**go into youtube and type that in. That's my bagpipes exit, guys. :3**_

_**PS I can't one typo past you guys, can I? **_


	34. Chapter 34

_**GUYS I HAVE ACTUAL NEWS THIS TIME! I've written 'The Super-Awesome Untold Misadventures of Grandpa Rome,' and I've published it. I'd really appreciate it if you guys read and reviewed! **_

_**I don't own Hetalia. **_

_**~ * ~ *34 ~ * ~***_

"I think I'm going to drop out"

Japan spat out his green tea, and then wiped his mouth quickly. He and Italy were eating lunch under one of the many cherry blossom trees that lined China's backyard. Japan had invited Germany to eat lunch with them too, but he insisted that he needed to train more. Apparently doing a bicycle kick wasn't enough to impress himself.

"What?" Japan asked. "You're in the finals!"

"Yeah, I know," Italy sighed. China had made them a little picnic, along with Japan's favorites and his own version of "pasta" for Italy. Italy twirled his noodles around on his fork, giving it the biggest amount of concentration.

"Don't you want to win?" Japan asked.

"Japan," Italy turned to him, sticking the forkful of noodles in his mouth. "Whose side are you on?"

"Huh?" Japan looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"I'm playing against Germany," Italy responded. "Who're you rooting for?"

"Both of you, I guess," Japan shrugged. "You're my friends"

"Ok, right answer," Italy took a sip of his tea. "Who do you think is going to win?"

"You," Japan said quickly, not even hesitating. "Germany's good, but he just got in by chance and he needs more training. You shouldn't worry, Italy, if you ask me you're the set winner. Everyone's just thinking differently because of that bicycle kick of his"

"I'm not worried about losing," Italy looked at the ground. "I'm worried about _winning_"

"Huh?" Japan turned. "What . . . what do you mean?"

"I guess I'm worried about losing, too," Italy sighed.

"I don't get it," Japan raised an eyebrow. "What are you going on about?"

"There are two possible outcomes, right?" Italy picked up a bowl of rice and began to pick at it with his chopsticks. "I win or I lose, which means either Germany wins or Germany's loses. I could lose and have Germany look down on me for the rest of my life because I lost to him. Or I win, and Germany hates me because I beat him. I don't want either of those things to happen, so it'd be easier if I just dropped out. You know?"

"I can understand your point," Japan said. "But honestly, Germany wouldn't hate you. He's a team player"

"No, he isn't," Italy sighed. "I want him to like me, Japan, and winning will just make him hold a grudge"

"He wouldn't hold a grudge against you," Japan said.

"Yeah, right," Italy scoffed.

"I'm serious"

"Sure"

"Italy—"

"What makes me any different from anyone else to Germany? Huh?"

Japan looked at his friend; the little boy sat stirring his noodles very angrily. Crushes are a funny thing. They make you completely blinded to the reality of things. To you, that person is perfect and you'll never be good enough to them. You never see what's right in front of you.

"How long have you liked him, Italy?" Japan asked.

"Huh?" Italy thought for a second, and then shrugged. "A year or so, I guess. About a month or so after we met. Why?"

"There's a theory," Japan smirked. "That crushes only last for a few months. Any longer than that means you've fallen in_ love_"

Italy narrowed his eyes and frowned. "So?"

Japan smirked. "Italy, you're second-guessing yourself. To be honest, I think Germany likes you just as much as you like him. Maybe even more"

* * *

By the time the game actually started, Germany was already sweating from nearly every one of his pores. He'd ran around the track fifteen times, practicing his kicks for an hour, did goalie practice for another hour, and then ran another twenty laps.

"_Welcome, welcome, welcome to the first World Cup finals_!" America announced happily. "_On the left side of the field we have the boy who crushes all blonde stereotypes, he was an underdog and now he's a champion, he's a dog-person, and he loves that wonderful mystery-solving Great Dane: give it up for GERMANYYYYYY_!"

The crowd cheered in response, the German flag visible in the crowd of adults and the chibis who'd lost. Germany noticed that all of the chibis with German flags had lost in a game to Italy (with an exception of Romano, and he was convinced he was in the middle of a star-crossed-brothers scenario because Mexico was cheering for Germany.)

"_Now, on the right half_," America continued, his eyes lit up in excitement. "_He used to wear dresses, that curl seems to define him, his pretty mother scares me, and he's got a thing for pasta: give it up for ITALYYYYYY_!"

"_As you can see, what my brother really wants to do is announce wrestling matches_," Canada rolled his eyes.

"_Someday, my brother, someday . . ._" America sighed.

"_Anyway, today is the perfect day for the finals_," Canada announced. "_The winner here is a champion, folks, who will walk away the very first world cup trophy. It's a sunny afternoon, France just made my brother and I some lunch_—"

"_Because Britain can't make jack shit_!" America laughed, and then pulled the microphone closer to his mouth and quickly said. "_I didn't mean that, I'm sorry, Mommy_"

"You better be!" Britain exclaimed from the crowd.

"—_and I think it's safe to say that we're all excited for this game_," Canada announced. "_And Japan, let me just say that your gear just makes it all better_"

"_Arigatō_!" Japan called. His sports gear _was_ interesting, though. Half of his face was painted with the Italian flag, the other half with the German flag. He held both flags in his hands, and while one half of his shirt was the German colors, the other half was the Italian colors. During this game, Japan was more neutral than Switzerland.

Thailand made them shake hands, and then threw the ball into the air. Germany made a run for it, taking the ball instantly and running towards the goal. Italy followed him instantly, trying to steal the ball from him.

But . . .

He seemed slow, slow and less determined to win. Italy played slow, almost sleepily. Yes, he was still very, _very_ good. But he wasn't that soccer war machine he was when he was playing against Seychelles, and that was just the _semi_-finals. This was the game that decided the winner, so why wasn't he trying harder?

Even with Italy's lazy-ass playing, the game was close. Germany was still no soccer star, and Italy was still God's chosen player. About five minutes into the game, they were tied, 5-5.

When the game at reached its twenty minute peak, Germany decided to do what the crowd had been begging him to do since the game started. When Italy kicked him the ball, he leapt up; kicking it in midair and seeing it crash into the goal.

His landing hadn't gotten any better (aka, he was met with a face full of dirt) but at least the crowd liked it. He got up, spitting out pieces of grass and dirt.

The game only lasted another minute, which seemed to be nothing but the two boys dancing around each other for the ball. As the alarm for 'game over' went off, Germany glanced up and then checked the scoreboard.

11-12

He . . . he won?

"I won?" Germany asked cautiously.

"He won?!" the crowd exclaimed

"_He won_?" America asked.

"_He won_?" Canada questioned.

"You won," Italy smiled, walking over to Germany. Funny, he didn't seem so disappointed. "Congrats"

"_GERMANY'S THE WINNER_!" America and Canada yelled in sync, jumping to their feet and lifting a fist in the air. The crowd responded positively, getting over their shock and just being happy that they got a winner at all.

Germany smirked; he'd been hoping this would happen for one reason. He ran to the side of the bleachers, grabbing the cylinder-shaped bucket of Gatorade. He didn't even try to be sneaky; he just ran up and dumped all of it on Japan.

"What—the—_hell_?!" Japan snapped, spitting out Gatorade and wiping the wet paint off his cheeks. His bangs had fallen into his eyes, and he had to hold them apart just so he could scowl at Germany.

"Thanks, Coach," Germany said, and Japan opened his mouth to complain, and then closed it again.

"I guess being coach comes with its ups and downs," Japan sighed.

"So, uh, West?" Prussia asked. "How much did it cost to fill up that bucket with Gatorade?"

"Several hundred Euros," Germany admitted. "After all, I could only buy the singular bottles. But I think it was worth it. By the way, I used your credit card"

Prussia was about to protest, but stopped himself when Thailand put a medal around his neck and gave him the trophy. Prussia simply stared at him for the first few minutes, and then began tearing up in the eyes. He surged forward, scooping Germany up in his arms and hugging him tightly.

"_You won, West, you won!_" Prussia exclaimed. "_I can't believe it; I'm so fucking proud of you_!" Prussia turned, stuck his tongue out at Austria, and then shouted. "_You hear that, ass-hat? My kid totally just beat your kid at soccer! My kid—_hey," he dropped Germany and ran over when he saw the Austrian roll his eyes and then get up to leave. "I didn't mean it! Austria, get back here . . .! _I was kidding_! You shouldn't be so sensitive, it was a joke, and I mean—_Austria_!"

While Germany was studying his brand new medal, Italy stood in the field, playing around with the soccer ball. He smiled to himself; it was nice seeing everyone this happy and excited. And Germany really liked that medal so that was good.

_There are two possible outcomes, right? _

Italy stopped playing with the ball, and then looked over to Germany. He hadn't taken his eyes off that medal. He was awfully proud of it. That meant he was awfully proud of himself for winning it.

_I could lose and have Germany look down on me for the rest of my life because I lost to him._

Japan said it wasn't going to happen . . . but who was he kidding? This wasn't a game of rock-paper-scissors; this was the freaking _World Cup_. Who wouldn't be proud of winning? And pride often makes people think that they're better than other people.

_It's not like he was ever going to like me anyways_, Italy thought with a sigh.

_There's a theory that crushes only last for a few months. Any longer than that means you've fallen in love_

Like that mattered. Even if that _was_ true and that he _was_ in love with him, it's not like that was going to change anything. Germany was amazing and smart and strong, and what was Italy? Try 'that one guy who got second place in the finals.'

Italy picked up the ball, and then turned to go home. Hey, at least he had Japan, if that counted for anything other than bad advice that didn't even seem like advice.

"Italy! Where're you going?"

Italy turned, seeing Germany run up to him. "Home. Why?"

"Don't you want to come over to my house with me and Japan?" Germany asked, raising an eyebrow. "We're celebrating!"

"You want me to come?" Italy's eyes were wide. "But . . . I lost . . ."

"Really, Italy?" Germany scoffed, but in the end he was smiling. "I only won by, like, one point in the very last minute of the game. I was _lucky_. Not to mention I got into the semi-finals by pure chance, you worked your way up there. If anyone deserves to be celebrating, it's you"

"Oh, uh, ok," Italy shrugged. "I'll go with you guys"

"Great," Germany said. "Prussia said he'll buy us pizza, and we can rent a movie or something. I don't know about you, but I'm in the mood for comedy"

"A comedy's g—" Italy started, but he was cut off when Germany grabbed his hand and led him across the field. Italy's face turned a color of bright red, his heart thundering in his ears. For whatever reason, when Germany held his hand, even when it was just to lead him somewhere, he felt nervous and scared . . . but not in a bad way. He didn't want Germany to let him go. He wanted him to hold his hand forever, to never let go.

_There's a theory that crushes only last for a few months. Any longer than that means you've fallen in love. _

* * *

_**And to think, I was worried this chapter was going to be short. **_

_**Ugh, my GerIta feels~! Sorry, that's pretty much one of my OTPS, along with LietPol (I'm pretty sure Lithuania's the seme, so I call it LietPol.) **_

_**I kinda lost track of the votes somewhere down the path of writing this arc, so I kinda just picked a winner. If Germany did win the votes—awesome! If not—I'm sorry. But Germany HAS won the world cup before (the top four countries to win the world cup are Brazil, Argentina, Italy, and Germany) and I really did want him to win. He tried so **_hard_**, goddammit. **_

_**I am going to write that LietPol story, though, so just be patient. As for now, just enjoy 'The Super-Awesome Untold Misadventures of Grandpa Rome.' I hope you think it's as super-awesome as Grandpa Rome.**_

_**As for that theory Japan talked about, it's real. I don't remember it specifically, but it's something like that. A "crush" is only supposed to last for a month or so (which is why I said a few, since I forgot the specific time) any longer than that means you've fallen in love. But that's just a theory, I'm not sure if I believe it 100% (since I strongly believe that you have to get to know someone to fall in love with them,) so believe what you will. **_

_**In Shades of Blue, **_

_**Ninja**_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!* **_


	35. Chapter 35

_**I uploaded the LietPol story, it's called "How To Be Fabulous (While Getting the Guy of Your Dreams)" and it'd be super-duper amazing if you guys read and reviewed! That is, if you guys are LietPol fans. **_

_**This OC that shows up in this chapter is all thanks to **_AlfredTheHero_**, meaning they came up with her looks, personality, everything. I didn't even know this country (German state, whatever) existed before they told me. They also helped out a lot with this arc, and this arc was also largely thanks to **_Meagan Snow_**. So to both of you awesome people, all I have to say is "THANK YOU!" **_

_**~ * ~ * 35 ~ * ~ ***_

Two o'clock. Two fucking AM in the morning, and they still wouldn't shut up. Germany sat awake in his bed, petting his dogs quite angrily (they weren't quite puppies anymore, more like young dogs.) Why the hell didn't Prussia tell him he had a guest over?

There was to be a very precise system if Prussia had any friends over. There was a form to be filled out (just answering simple questions, like who it is, why they're coming, whether or not Germany hated them) and turned in a week before their arrival. Normally, Germany would go to bed earlier and take a dose of sleeping medicine, just so their loud sounds of laughter wouldn't wake him up.

Prussia just skipped all of those steps and went straight to having his friend over.

_Bastard_.

Germany jumped out of his bed, whistling for his dogs to follow him. There was three of them, and three in the BTT. One vicious puppy for each of them. It wasn't exactly a stupid idea. The thought of a puppy attacking a grown man might seem to be nothing but cute, but Gold had once gone as far as to rip out a piece of France's hair (to this day France won't look Germany in the eye. He also has this irrational fear of dogs.)

"Prussia—!" Germany started, swinging open the door to the kitchen. Then he instantaneously whistled for his dogs to heel. For whatever reason, this wasn't a BTT reunion.

Prussia sat at the kitchen table with a woman Germany had never seen before, but he felt like he had. She kind of looked like him, if he turned female and got a couple of battle scars. She had short-cropped blonde hair and dark blue eyes, but even with her battle appearance, she was laughing as if she didn't have a single care in the world.

"Oh, hey, Germany," Prussia said. "What're you doing up?"

"You woke me up," Germany huffed, crossing his arms. "We've discussed this. You're supposed to tell me about guests in advance."

"This was unexpected," Prussia said. "Oh, _ja_, Germany, this is my big sister, Lübeck. Say hi"

Germany would've been fine with a handshake or a simple nod of the head, but Lübeck swept him up in her arms and nearly hugged the life out of him. Germany had to admit, this would be a pleasant way to die. But he still didn't plan to go like this.

"You're―gah—I―can't—breathe―!" Germany gasped; his voice breathless.

"Oh, you're so cute!" Lübeck squealed. Funny, she didn't look like the fawning type. "You look just like Holy Rome! Pru-Chan, you didn't tell me that he looks just like Holy Rome!" her head whipped around, and her eyes suddenly had a very murderous look to them. "_Why didn't you tell me that_?"

"It, uh, it didn't s-seem important," Prussia looked more scared than he should have.

Lübeck smirked, and then pulled Germany closer and whispered in his ear. "You know, you should probably punish him. You're not big enough to beat him up, though, so I suggest tricking him. Putting pushpins in his shower never fails. And those dogs of yours have to be good for biting. You could train them to wait in his bed for him when he goes to sleep—"

"Excuse me, what?" Germany asked, raising an eyebrow. Then he got the life squeezed out of him as she returned to hugging him.

"Oh, you're adorable!" her eyes then lit up. "_Ack, mein Gott_; I almost forgot! I got you something"

"You got me something?" Germany couldn't stop himself from smiling a bit. "Like . . . like a present?"

Lübeck nodded, and then searched through her bag. She pulled out a box that was held together with ribbons, and then handed it to him. Germany took the box excitedly, saying a quick thank you before opening the box.

"Pru-Chan talks about you a lot, but he doesn't tell me much about your personality or what you like" Lübeck shrugged. "But he said you like dogs and that you like Scooby Doo, so—"

It took all of Germany's willpower not to scream like a little girl, and it already kind of failed, because he ended up squealing like a pubescent fourteen year old. In his hands he held what could be a life-size (one wouldn't know, anyways) Scooby Doo plushy. He hugged it tightly; he'd been begging Prussia to get him one of these for God-knows-how-long. "Thank you!"

"It's nothing," Lübeck smiled. "I'm glad you like it"

"I've got to pay you back, somehow," Germany exclaimed in his own defense, not letting go of his new precious stuffed animal. "I mean, it isn't Christmas or my birthday or anything"

"Well . . ." Lübeck got the happiest little smile on her face; one that looked close to the one Belgium permanently wore. "I would just _love_ it if you called me Nee-Chan or big sister. And a good old fashioned 'I love you' never hurt anyone"

Prussia scoffed. "Lübeck, he won't even call me Nii-San, he's never told me he loved me, and he's lived me for more than a year. Like he's going to call you Nee-Chan when you've only just met—"

"_I love you, Nee-Chan_!" Germany exclaimed, jumping up and hugging Lübeck around the neck.

Prussia dropped his beer glass.

* * *

"Ger-Chan," Lübeck said that next morning, setting down a glass of orange juice in front of him. Prussia muttered something about Germany not liking it when people called him that, but otherwise said nothing. He still wasn't talking to either Lübeck or Germany. "Do you like acting?"

"I've never tried it," Germany shrugged, taking a gulp of orange juice. He held his Scooby Doo plushy in his arms (he made a pledge to never let it go _ever_.) "Why?"

Lübeck smiled. "Well, France-Chan says he wants to—"

"Any sentence starting with those words has gotta be _great_ for kids," Prussia muttered.

Lübeck glared at him, and then returned her attention to Germany. "Anyways, Well, France-Chan says he wants to direct a play staring all of you kids. I thought you could audition"

Prussia scoffed. "Germany isn't into that kind of stuff. Honestly, Lübeck, it's like you don't even know him _at all_"

"Well, she only met me yesterday," Germany said in her defense.

"Why, thank you, Ger-Chan," Lübeck smiled. "I'm helping France-Chan with all the casting and directing, so I thought it'd be nice to see you audition. It'd _really_ make me happy"

"_Please_," Prussia laughed. "Germany doesn't care about other people's happiness! In fact, he's the most emotionless, hollow, strict, boring little boy I've ever met—!"

"I'll do it!" Germany exclaimed, glaring angrily at his brother, and then aggressively taking a drink of orange juice (he choked on it.)

* * *

"Ok," France stood up from his director's chair, while Hungary and Lübeck mimicked his movements. Germany's Scooby Doo plushy sat next to Prussia in the audience seats (Prussia didn't look too happy to be here, and by the looks of it, getting seated next to a stuffed animal wasn't helping his mood.) "This is an audition for the upcoming play: _Romeo and Juliet_"

Germany stiffened. Lübeck didn't tell him that this was going to be a _romance _play. What if had to kiss someone? That'd be completely awkward. And he wasn't completely comfortable with reciting mushy, lovey words to one of his friends in front of _people_. This was an embarrassing disaster waiting to happen.

"Keep in mind, not all of you are getting speaking parts," France announced. "And not all of you will even be appearing on stage. Remember, backstage jobs are just as important as acting parts, though they aren't even half as fabulous. All the boys will be trying out reading as Romeo, and all the girls as Juliet. You will be reading from the Scene II, more commonly known as the 'Balcony Scene.' Italy, you may begin"

Italy cleared his throat. "Quiet—!"

"_Cut_!"

Italy looked at France, and the word 'confusion' was practically written all over his face. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Nothing, darling, it's just your voice," France explained, resting his chin on the back of his hand. "It's too high-pitched for any of the male parts" he then thought for a bit, and then his eyes lit up. "Italy can be Juliet, he's girly enough!"

France then nodded to Hungary, and she passed out the scripts to all of the chibi kids.

"He's a boy!" Germany snapped, flipping to the page he was supposed to be reading. "Treat him like one, dammit!"

"He's fine, he used to wear dresses anyways," France said as he overlooked Germany. "Maybe you could be Romeo. You'd look cute in a hat, and you have rather the romantic-type voice for the part"

"What the hell is a romantic-type voice?" Germany raised an eyebrow.

"If you don't know, you shouldn't," France, Hungary, and Lübeck said at the same time.

"I don't mind being Juliet!" Italy said quickly, his face turning right red while hugging his script to his chest. "Honest!"

"Great, now let's see if you can actually fit to the parts," France clapped his hands together. "Ok, so Italy can read off of Juliet's parts and Germany will read Romeo's," he snapped his fingers. "Romeo, go!"

Germany cleared his throat. Lübeck said doing this would make her happy, and he could see Prussia watching him in the stands. Even after winning the Cup, he still felt like he wasn't good enough. After all, when he won Prussia only looked at his medal for a bit and then ran after Austria (_again_.) He needed to show his older siblings that he actually meant something, that he could earn his way into something rather than getting it by luck like he did in the World Cup. He wanted to show them that he could be talented if he wanted to, just like anyone else. Japan was a ninja, Italy could draw, but what could he do?

Hopefully, he could do this.

He took in a breath, and then read off the lines with as much emotion as he could. "Quiet! What light breaks through that window? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun rising! Arise, fair sun, and kill the jealous moon, who is already sick and pale with grief; that you, her maid, are far more beautiful than she is. Don't be her maid, since she is so jealous.

"Her chaste, white gown is only sick and green, and only fools wear it. Take it off and throw it away. It is my lady; O, it is my love! O, I wish she knew that she was my love!

"She speaks, but she says nothing. What does that mean? Her eye seems to be talking. I will answer it. I am too bold; she's not speaking to me. Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, having some business, do beg her eyes to twinkle in their sockets till the stars return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head?

"The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, as daylight shames a lamp; her eyes in heaven would stream so brightly through the skies that birds would sing and think it was morning. See how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O I wish I were a glove on that hand, so that I might touch that cheek!"

When he looked up from his script, he felt as if everyone was staring at him. He probably felt that way because they were, wide-eyed and mouths hanging open, while France looked like he was about to cry. Even Italy was staring at him, his eyes the size of dinner plates.

Germany coughed, and then hissed. "_Italy, your line_"

"Oh," Italy shook his head, and then read off the page. "Ah me!"

"_You're perfect_!" France exclaimed, and that's when he started crying. "_Germany, I believe with all my heart and soul that you are my perfect Romeo_!"

"Thanks," Germany shrugged. "Can I go home now?"

* * *

The acting parts were written on a piece of paper and stapled outside the auditorium the next morning. Japan and Italy had arrived early that morning to see if they got the part they wanted, but Germany had refused. He already knew that he was going to get Romeo, and since the new episode of _Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated _came out that morning; he claimed to have better things to do.

Italy ran his finger down the paper, looking for his name. The parts were typed neatly, and judging by the doodles of flowers and hearts that could almost spell the word 'yaoi' (if you squint or had an artistic eye,) Hungary was probably the one to have written this.

'_Romeo and Juliet' Parts_

_Romeo: Germany _

_Juliet: Italy _

_Lord Montague: Canada_

_Lord Capulet: Romano_

_Romeo's mom: Taiwan_

_Juliet's mom: Peru _

_Paris: Mexico _

_Prince Escalus: America_

_Nurse: Japan_

_Tybalt: S. Korea _

_Friar Lawrence: India _

_Rosaline: Seychelles _

_Benvolio: Brazil_

_Mercuito: Argentina _

_Apothecary: N. Korea_

_Narrator: Greece_

_Lighting: Kosovo_

_Special Effects: Hong Kong and Honduras_

"You know," Japan smirked. "Romeo and Juliet kiss in this play, so that means—!"

"It means I get to kiss Germany," Italy had the happiest look on his face, as if someone handed him a million dollars and a lifetime supply of pasta. He grabbed Japan's hands and spun him around. "_I get to kiss Germany, I get to kiss Germany_!"

Japan looked completely horrified as Italy spun him around and around and around, and that's not just because he puked whenever he got too dizzy. Sure, Italy having a little crush on Germany was fine, but a kiss . . .

What if that got them from a 'crush' to something more? What if they started dating? If they went on dates and held hands and giggled with each other and got inside jokes. If they kissed whenever they met and called each to have conversations that lasted for hours at a time? If that happened . . .

Then Japan would be the third wheel; the forgotten friend.

He'd be all alone again.

Japan stiffened, but continued to let Italy dance around and freak out about the fact that he got a girl's part.

_Sorry, Italy_, Japan thought, sticking both of his hands in his pockets. _But no one's kissing anybody as long as I'm around._

* * *

_**Ugh, unnecessarily long chapter is way too fucking long**__._

_ **Germany and Italy's lines are straight from the play 'Romeo and Juliet', but I used the simplified version because I could barely understand the original. And since I'm starting High School in August and I couldn't understand it, I figured these chibis wouldn't be able to, either. So I found a simpler version. If you ask me, the play still doesn't make much sense, but hey: it's still entertaining. And romantic. I guess. **_

_**Another thanks to **_AlfredTheHero _**and **_Meagan Snow _**for this arc, and thanks to **_AlfredTheHero _**for Lübeck's character. You guys are ultimately amazing and you deserve cookies and brownies and cake and ice-cream.**_

_**Remember to check out my brand-new LietPol story!**_

_**In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja**_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!* **_


	36. Chapter 36

_**Sorry if this took forever, but we went to my aunt's farmhouse on the weekend and since the internet already SUCKS in Brazil, it was completely MIA while we were there, and I kinda suffered from an internet withdraw. But fear not, I'm here now!**_

_**I don't own Hetalia. **_

_**~ * ~ * 36 ~ * ~ ***_

France shuffled his papers, sat down and crossed his kegs, coughed politely, and then barked out his orders. "We're doing act two, scene two, it's on page eight, people! Get going, get going, get going! I need my Romeo and Juliet center stage, and _go_!"

The chibi kids scrambled to fit his orders, most of them running behind the stage and South Korea tripped over a bucket of paint. He got up and insisted that he was ok a number of times before running backstage with everyone else.

Italy cleared his throat before reciting his lines. "Romeo!"

Germany stiffened, picking up his script and reading off his lines, as mechanical and emotionless as a robot. "M-my, my baby—my baby hawk?" His eyes shot up to France, who sat proudly in his director's chair. "I'm sorry; I think my script has a typo in it. Am I supposed to call her 'my baby hawk'?"

"_Oui_," France nodded.

"How high is this guy, exactly?" America called from backstage, earning a number of giggles from the chibi kids.

France scoffed, and then returned his gaze to Germany. "It's romantic, is it not?"

"I'd go with 'not'! _Am I right_?!" South Korea exclaimed.

"You're _right_!" America laughed, and the two boys jumped and high-fived each other. They giggled for a few more seconds before Canada and North Korea came up from behind them and slapped their significant twin on the back of the head.

Hungary rolled her eyes. "Italy, dearest, your line?"

"Oh, yeah," Italy coughed, and then read. "What time should I send a messenger to you?"

"By nine o'clock—" Germany started, and then turned to France. "Wait, does he mean nine AM or nine PM, because my bedtime's eight thirty, so . . ."

"Well, Romeo doesn't _have_ a bedtime!" France closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. "So just read your lines, ok, Germany?"

Germany nodded, and Italy took in a breath and then continued his lines.

"I won't fail. From now until then seems like twenty years. I have forgotten why I called you back"

"Let me stand here until you remember your reason," Germany recited.

"You should wink," America suggested. "Like you're _really _flirting with her—no offence Italy—like you totally _mean it_!"

"This is a romantic play, America, not some weird-ass version of the West Side Story!" France snapped.

All the chibis gasped.

"You said a caca word!" Canada gasped.

"For shame," North Korea shook his head in disappointment.

"What? But you guys live with Romano—oh, whatever!" France huffed in annoyance. "Italy, it's your turn!"

"I'll forget, and you'll have to stand there forever," Italy read, his eyes sparking. Man, that boy loves to act. "I'll only remember how much I love your company"

"I'll keep standing, even if you keep forgetting," Germany read, and he then noticed the way that Italy was looking at him. The look in his eyes wasn't one of someone acting in a play, but of someone who truly felt the way Juliet did. Jesus, he was _good_. "I'll forget that I have any home besides this spot, right here"

"It's almost morning," Italy said, and once again, there was that voice of sincerity. As if he really felt this way. But the only reason Germany could think of to why he was so good at this was that he was simply a good actor; nothing more. "I want to make you go, but I'd only let you go as far as a spoiled child lets his pet bird go. He lets the bird hop from his hand and then yanks him back by a string"

He was only acting, right?

". . . I wish I was your bird" Germany feared he paused too much before reciting his lines.

"My sweet, so do I," Italy said.

_Only acting _

"But I would kill you by petting you too much" Italy continued.

_What a weird line. He's only acting, isn't he . . .?_

"Good night, good night"

_He's a really good actor because he's only acting_

"Parting is just sweet sorrow . . ."

_Acting . . . _

". . . That I'll say good night until tonight becomes tomorrow"

_. . . Maybe he isn't—_?

"Bravo!" France exclaimed, clapping his hands. "You guys are actually acting like you have talent, finally! Ok, now we're rehearsing Act Four, Scene Five, so find it in your scripts! I need the Nurse, Lord Capulet, and Lady Capulet center stage, _now_!"

Japan flipped to the page France was talking about, and then his eyes widened. "Holy sheet, that's a lot of lines"

"I think you mean holy sh—" France started, and then was met by a death glare from Hungary, so he shuddered. "Never mind, carry on"

Japan took in a deep breath, and then read off the page. "Mistress! Hey, hey mistress! Juliet! I bet she's fast asleep. Hey, lamb! Hey, lady! Hey, you lazy bones! Hey, love, I say! Madam! Sweetheart! Hey, bride! What, you don't say a word? You take your beauty sleep now. Get yourself a week's worth of sleep. Tomorrow night, I bet, Count Paris won't let you get much rest. God forgive me. Alright, and amen. How sound asleep she is! I must wake her up. Madam, madam, madam! Yes, let the count take you in your bed. He'll wake you up, I bet. Won't he?"

Japan turned around and opened up the curtains with a dramatic flash, everyone still trying to process his ultra-long line.

"What?" Japan continued. "You're still dressed in all your clothes. But you're still asleep. I must wake you up. Lady! Lady! Lady! Oh no, oh no! Help, help! My lady's dead! Oh, curse the day that I was born! Ho! Get me some brandy! Oh Lord! My Lady!"

Peru looked around, and then glanced at France. "Is he done?"

"Yup," France sighed, rolling his eyes.

"What's all the noise in here?" Peru asked, taking a step forward and not taking her eyes off of her script.

"Oh, sad day!" Japan swooned, and then rolled his eyes and looked to France. "So is this Nurse mentally retarded or . . .?"

"_Shut up and say your lines_!" France snapped.

"Fine, fine," Peru threw up her hands in her own defense, and then read. "What is the matter?"

"Look, look! Oh, what a sad day!" Japan exclaimed with a little too much drama.

"Oh my, oh my! My child, my reason for living, wake up, look up, or I'll die with you!" Peru fell to her knees, clawing at the ground dramatically. "Help, help! Call for help!"

"_You're not supposed to do that_!" France shrieked.

"The fuck guys, bring Juliet out here, her future-husband's waiting!" Romano exclaimed.

"_Those aren't your lines_!" France snapped.

"She's dead, deceased, curse the day!" Japan exclaimed, clutching his heart. "Oh, no! I can't—survive—without—her!" he fell to the ground, spazzing around a bit before he stopped moving completely.

"Great Scott!" Peru checked Japan's pulse, and then dramatically turned to Romano. "She's dead!"

"Shit! We technically murdered her!" Romano grabbed Peru by the shoulders. "Honey, we don't have a daughter and we murdered the maid. We've gotta run away to Mexico and change our names to Paco and Maria Di Sato, and we'll get a job on a taco farm and raise alpacas. It'll be . . ."

The two turned to the audience and said in sync. ". . . _Perfect_"

"_Those aren't your lines_!" France snapped. "Jesus Christ, I hate working with children! Ok, act one, scene five, page five. It's the kiss scene, so nobody better screw this up!"

"Hey," Japan jumped up from his spot. "I was thinking . . . maybe we shouldn't even _do_ a kiss scene"

"_What_?" Italy snapped, whipping around to face him. "No, no, we have to do the kiss scene" he glared at Japan. "Why would you even _suggest otherwise_?"

"I dunno, you're both boys," Japan kicked at the floor innocently. "I mean, we might have some hardcore church-goers in the crowd. You never know"

"There's nothing wrong with yaoi—I mean, with two boys being together," Hungary said quickly.

"Well, _I _think that but I can't talk for everyone else, can I?" Japan shrugged. "Plus, Hungary-San, this is your son's first kiss. That means your little boy's all grown up. And usually, people have their first kisses around the 8th grade or high school, so he'll be growing up _extra_ fast"

Hungary's eyes widened. "I . . . I haven't thought of that . . ."

"That's not true, Mama!" Italy exclaimed, turning to face his "mother". "It won't mean I'm growing up too fast! It's just really important to the play!"

"You know, originally, Romeo and Juliet never really kissed," Japan reminded, shaking a finger to prove his point. "They just sort of talked about kissing, but they never really did it. So it won't matter so much if we just" he made a hand motion. "Cut the part out"

"That's stupid!" Italy snapped. "Of _course_ there needs to be a kiss scene!"

"Italy, you seem pretty keen on keeping this kiss scene in the play," Japan narrowed his eyes. "Why's that?"

Italy's face turned a shade of bright red, and he recoiled, gaping like a goldfish. "I—I—I—I'm n-not—!"

"I mean, it would be awkward kissing your _friend _like that on _stage_ in front of everyone," Japan put his hands in his pockets, walking closer to Italy with every step that Italy took back. "But yet, you still want to do it. Wouldn't that _change_ things between you two? But you're still willing to risk it for one kiss. Why's that?"

"I—I d-don't—!" Italy spluttered, and then swallowed.

"What's wrong, Italy? You seem nervous," Japan smirked bit. He was winning. "Why're you nervous, Ita-Chan? I'm just helping you. It's not like you _want _to kiss Germany," he smiled. "Right?"

"Hey, leave him alone!" Germany snapped.

Japan turned. "Huh?"

"Look at him; he's a wreak because of you!" Germany growled. "So what if he wants a kiss scene? It's really important to the play, you know. And it doesn't matter, we're just acting. It's not like anything that happens in this room is real, it's like a giant game of pretend. So stop being such an ass to Italy about it"

The chibis gasped.

"You said a—!" Canada started.

"I know what I said!" Germany snapped, crossing his arms.

"Let's, uh, let's take a break," France announced, standing up and tucking his script under his shoulder. "I think we've all been working a bit too hard today"

Before Japan could run out fast enough, Italy grabbed him by the wrist and dug his nails into the little Asian boy's skin. Japan winced, and smiled nervously at his friend. But Italy's eyes had a look of bloody murder in them.

"We need to talk," Italy growled. "_Now_"

* * *

_**If Japan was too much of an asshole in this chapter, he's going to pay for it in the next chapter. The poor boy did get a shitload of lines (the Nurse is a retard that talks way too fucking much) so that's punishment enough, I think. **_

_**In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja**_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


	37. Chapter 37

_**Sorry I took so fucking long on this chapter, but the internet sucks and I'm writing a drama PruAus story that I'm ALSO focusing on, so yeah, I'm sorry. **_

_**~ * ~ * 37 ~ * ~ ***_

"I don't know about _you_, Ita-Chan, but do you know what I love? Puppies"

Japan was met with a death-stare from Italy, who just yesterday, didn't even know how to use a death stare.

"I also love pocky"

Japan was met with silence and a look of pure evil.

"I also love anime"

Japan was met with nothing but a sneer.

"I also love . . ."

Japan was met with a scowl.

". . . Forgiveness"

"_What the hell was that about_?!" Italy shouted, his voice echoing. The two were hiding out in one of the bathroom's (there was only two in the entire "acting studio," which was already too big for a bunch of chibi kids and three directors) and by the looks and sound of it, Italy was _this close_ to clawing out Japan's hair and eyes with his bare hands.

Japan cringed. "I don't . . . know what you're talking about"

"_Don't play stupid; I tell you fucking everything and you do this_?!" Italy snapped, grabbing him by the t-shirt and yanking him closer, just so he couldn't escape. "_What exactly were you trying to pull, Japan? Were you trying to embarrass me in front of everyone or make me look like a fucking retard in front of Germany?! Huh? You _know_ that all I want in this whole goddamn world is get one fucking kiss from Germany and you try to screw that over?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!_"

Japan paused, gaping, his eyes wide. "I . . . didn't know you knew how to use that kind of language . . . Ita . . . Chan . . ."

Italy let out a sigh, letting go of Japan's shirt. "Romano's my big brother; I've learned a thing or two from him"

Japan looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to embarrass you like that. I went too far"

"Like hell you did"

"I'm sorry"

"Why would you even do that, Japan? I thought you wanted me and Germany to be together!"

Japan paused, and then played with the helm of his sleeves. "That's the thing . . . I _don't_ want you and Germany to be together"

"Why?" Italy's eyes got wide, and then he stood up, covered his mouth, and then pointed an accusing finger at Japan. "_You like Germany, you like Germany, you like Ger—_!"

"Ew, no! Why would I ever like such a hard-headed, strict, stick-in-the-mud, lazy-ass like Ger—?" he paused when he got a glare from Italy. "No, I don't like Germany"

"Then why don't you want us to be together?" Italy raised an eyebrow.

"Because . . . because if you guys get together, I'll be all alone," Japan looked as if the tile floors were the most interesting thing in the world. "I'll just be a third wheel. You guys are going to be so swept up in your little love-fest, you'll forget all about me," he blinked, avoiding Italy's eyes. "You're the only friends I have. I don't want to lose you"

When Japan looked up, Italy was tearing up at the eyes. He let out a huge sob and then completely tackle-hugged Japan. However, Japan still didn't react well to emotion, so he just sort of sat there, motionless, while Italy hugged him and sobbed into his shoulder.

"We'd never forget about you, we love you!" Italy exclaimed, his shoulders heaving with sobs. "You'd never, never ever _never_, become a third wheel, Japan!"

Even though he was unsure, Japan ever so slightly hugged his friend back. "You promise?"

Italy nodded, hugging him so tightly Japan thought he might've cracked his spine. "I promise"

* * *

"Kisses are romantic, and this is a romantic play," Japan explained, pacing back and forth to both look sophisticated and prove his point. "So as you can see, the kiss scene is practically essential to this play," he bowed. "I rest my case"

The little boy was met with applause.

"Beautiful, Japan; you should be a lawyer!" Hungary clapped.

"Yes, yes," France smiled. "My mind's made up, this kiss scene is needed, 100%. Get ready everyone; we're doing the kiss scene"

Germany gulped; he had no idea how he felt about this. His mind was telling him that he wasn't ready to kiss anyone, let alone a good friend of his like Italy. But some part of him, deep in his subconscious, was whispering "would kissing Italy _really _be that bad, Germany?"

The play was in two days; so he better decide what he felt about this quickly.

* * *

_**Sorry this was so short, but I wanted to clear some stuff up. All the big stuff is going to happen next chapter, so sorry that this took forever only to be disappointing. (*-.-)**_

_**In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


	38. Chapter 38

_**Sorry this took forever, but I'm balancing trying to write a couple of fanfictions right now. Which brings me to this: I wrote a drama story and I'm working seriously hard on writing it. It is a PruAus story, though, and I know a lot of you are PruHun shippers. So I'd appreciate it if you read it, but if you don't like that couple, you don't have to read it. **_

_**~ * ~ * 38 ~ * ~ * **_

"Are you excited?" Lübeck sat next to Prussia, her smile wide, as she was hardly able to contain her anticipation. "It's going to be so cute; Germany's been practicing so hard!"

"Yeah, sure," Prussia scoffed. Lübeck turned to her brother, and raised an eyebrow before smacking him hard on the back.

"Ow—! _Lübeck_! What have I told you; you don't know your own strength! That hurts!" Prussia exclaimed, rubbing his back.

"I _do_ know my own strength; that's why I hit you," Lübeck said, crossing her arms. "What's with your mood? I thought you of all people would like to see Germany acting"

"What's the point?" Prussia snapped. "I'm sick of this!"

"Of what?"

"_What do you think_?!" Prussia exclaimed, his red eyes narrowed. "I do everything I can, I try and I try and I try and he _still_ won't treat me like family! And you show up for two seconds with a stuffed dog and he loves you and calls you Nee-Chan and he does something he hates for you! And then it turns out that he's just fucking _magnificent_ at the thing he thought he hated just because you recommended it!"

Lübeck recoiled, and then asked. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"_No_! Well, yes, for you, but—ugh! I just—I just—!" Prussia sighed, his head falling back on the seat. "I just don't know what I'm doing wrong"

Lübeck started at him, and then she began to giggle, and then those giggles turned into a full out laugher. She laughed while Prussia very slowly sat up straight; all while keeping full eye contact, staring at her as if she lost her mind. Lübeck ceased her laughing, and then finally turned to Prussia with a knowing big-sister look in her eyes.

"Prussia, Prussia, _Prussia_," Lübeck sighed. "How is it that the only one who can't see this is you?"

"See what?" Prussia asked.

"That everything Germany does, he does to impress you," Lübeck said. "He won't ever say it because he thinks it makes him look weak, but you're like his hero. And that's something I'm never going to be to him"

* * *

"Yo, potato-bastard!"

Germany thought his costume was embarrassing, but Romano's costume instantaneously made him feel better about himself. While he was stuck with tights and a loosely fitting shirt, Romano had to wear the full-out 1500's Lord outfit. This is to say: a ruffled collar around his neck with high-heeled boots that squeak and a button-up shirt that seemed tight enough to suffocate anyone. Though the outfit would seem highly embarrassing to anyone, Romano wore it with something that was almost like pride, pointing an accusing finger at Germany.

"Yes?" Germany tried his hardest not to stare at his outfit.

"I'm just here to make sure that this kiss scene with my brother isn't going to get to your head," Romano growled.

"It won't," Germany promised, looking at the ground. That collar looked _seriously_ uncomfortable.

"You probably think he _likes_ you, don't you, potato-bastard?"

"I don't"

"Well, I've got news for you!"

"Do you, now?"

"He only _likes _you because you look like Holy Rome, so suck it!"

Germany raised an eyebrow at Romano. "Who?"

Romano's eyes widened, and he straightened his posture (as he'd been lunging forward so he could threaten him properly.) "You . . . you seriously don't know?"

"I've heard that name before, I think," Germany pondered for a moment, and then shook his head. "But no, I don't know who they are. So who is Holy Rome?"

Romano sighed. "_Someone's_ gotta tell you, I guess. The land where you live used to be part of a country called the Holy Roman Empire, but we all called him Holy Rome. Now, this Holy Rome dude had this ultra-mega-crush on Italy. He like stalked him and shit and there was this one time where he took Italy's bow and then had a spazz attack because Italy was living in his house. It was creepy, if you ask me, but I guess Italy likes creepy"

"Is this going anywhere?" Germany asked, raising his eyebrows.

"_Be patient_!" Romano snapped. "Anyways, Holy Rome had to go off to war. And before he left, he kissed Italy and claimed that he'd always loved him. He also that he was going to come home as soon as he could"

"Did he?"

"No. He died in battle. No one even told Italy; he had to figure out for himself"

"Oh," Germany bit his lower lip. "That's harsh"

"Yeah, and you look exactly like him," Romano narrowed his eyes at Germany. "Down to every last detail, except your accent is different. That's why Italy was so desperate to be your friend. He feels like he owes you something. All because you look like someone who died that Italy didn't realize he liked back before it was too late"

Germany blinked. Was that all Italy saw him as? Just an echo of someone who was dead and gone, a second chance to be with Holy Rome? He didn't want that. He wanted to be thought of as his own person with his own personality that could make his own choices in life.

The puzzle pieces seemed to be falling into place. Why Prussia and Austria fought over him when they didn't even know him. Why Italy was so keen on being his friend. Why he had nightmares of being criticized for not being good enough, of having to live up to someone else's expectations. Even in death, Holy Rome was shadowing him and influencing his future, leaving almost nothing for Germany to truly choose.

It was as if . . .

As if he wasn't Germany; he was that one kid who looks like a mirror image of the Holy Roman Empire. As if his likeness to the dead empire was what made him special.

"Hey, you've been all quiet and shit," Romano snapped. "Well? What do you say?"

Germany looked up, and then shrugged. "Is Italy ok?"

"What?"

"Since Holy Rome died, is Italy ok?"

"He's fine, he's been acting like the happy idiot he's always been," Romano scoffed. "Why?"

That's all he was to Italy, wasn't it? A second chance to be with Holy Rome.

There wasn't much of a loss anyways; it's not like Italy ever liked Germany to begin with. Germany was nothing more than Italy's way of coping to losing Holy Rome. He never liked Germany; he just liked the boy who looked like Holy Rome.

"No reason," Germany gave a small smile. "No reason at all"

* * *

Even though dress rehearsals, rehearsals, and every practice they ever had had been chaotic; the actual play went by smoothly. Japan was able to speak his lines at warp speed, Germany was able to swoon like a lover, and Brazil and Argentina lasted for a while without killing each other (but one could see the two of them yanking on each other's clothing and stepping on each other's toes when they thought people weren't looking.)

The kiss scene, even with all of Japan's fighting, wasn't meant to be. While Germany leaned in to kiss Italy, Romano literally appeared out of the floor in a cloud of smoke (the chibis had found a trap door under the stage, and they'd all found a way to warp it into the play without telling France, as he'd never allow it.)

"Back away from my daughter!" Romano snapped, grabbing a fake sword from Uruguay (who was a soldier) and holding it out in front of him.

"Daddy, stop!" Italy exclaimed, grabbing onto Romano's shoulder.

"Juliet," Romano turned to Italy, his eyes narrowed in anger. "Is it true you saved this human—Montague from drowning?"

Italy's acting was perfect as he looked around, gaping like a fish out of water, his eyes wide as he spluttered. "But he would've died!"

"One less Montague to worry about!" Romano bellowed. "They're cruel, trespassing fish-eaters and they care about nobody but themselves—!"

"_Daddy, I love him_!" Italy shrieked, and then instantly covered his mouth.

"_What did you say_?" Romano hissed. "You can't be in love with him! He's a Montague, you're a Capulet!"

"I don't care," Italy pouted, crossing his arms.

"I won't allow it! If this is the only way I can get to you, so be it!" Romano let out a battle cry, charging at Germany.

"_Daddy, no_!" Italy exclaimed; running and grabbing a sword from Paraguay (who didn't fight to keep it) and tossed it to Germany. "Romeo, catch!"

Germany caught the rubber blade, holding it in front of him to catch Romano's fake sword. He jumped as Romano aimed for his legs, holding out the sword and making a jab for his arm. Romano caught it with his own sword, and the two battled for a good five minutes, until they'd made their way up the stairs and to the upper floor.

From the upper floor, Germany jumped, landing on his feet and tossing the sword aside. He then kissed his fingertips and made a throwing motion to Italy, who caught it with an excited jump.

"I'll come back for you!" Germany shouted, and then ran off set.

"_FUCK YOU, ROMEO_!" Romano yelled, shaking his sword in anger and as the curtain fell for intervention, the crowd exploded in applause.

France, however, wasn't too happy about their improv session. "_Those weren't your lines_!"

* * *

"And in her despair," Greece said, and his voice seemed perfect for the narrator part. "The beautiful young Juliet takes a potion so to make it appear that she is dead, whist leaving her lover, Romeo, to find her body in the cemetery. Now, friends, let us await his reception—"

"Reaction!" Serbia called from the crowd.

"—whatever, as he finds his lover's body," Greece said, as the curtains rose.

Germany took in a deep breath, and then proceeded to his lines and actions. He was to swoon and cry, to curse the world and then pick up the knife and "kill" himself. And then Juliet was to wake up, find his body, and then kill herself out of love for him.

. . . What kind of lesson was that?

What if Italy had done that? What if he'd killed himself because he figured out that the one he loved was dead? No. He didn't do that because he was strong, because he could go on even if Holy Rome's death left him miserable. He would go on because he loved him. And anything otherwise wasn't something Germany was going to do.

And so, the fake knife slipped from Germany's fingertips and clanged onto the floor.

"_What're you doing_?" France hissed. "_Do your part_!"

Germany took in a breath; he was officially winging it.

"I can't"

There was silence both onstage and in the crowd; everyone knew what was supposed to be happening and that this one boy wasn't do it.

"I can't do this," Germany repeated, turning to where Italy lay. "I can't take my own life because you're gone. That wouldn't be right"

There was a bit of murmuring amongst the crowd, and France looked like he was about to burst with anger.

"But . . ." Germany continued.

The crowd hushed.

". . . That doesn't mean I love you any less," Germany was starting to regret doing this; he _really_ should've thought this through. "I-In fact, it's because I love you that I'm doing this. Because you, my love, make me stronger, whether in life or death"

He took a step forward, gripping onto the casket. "Every breath I take will for each breath you lost, each smile for every smile you deserved, and each tear for every second I have to live without you. Because you cannot, and should not, die for the ones you love. You're supposed to live for them"

He sighed, clenching his fists. "So I'll live on for the both of us. I only wish that I didn't have to"

At that moment, all of the chibis backstage where hastily whispering for Italy to wake up and get out of the coffin. They were officially changing the ending to 'Romeo and Juliet', and in their eyes, it was going to make a lot more sense this way.

Italy blinked awake, and then sat up in his coffin. "R-Romeo . . .?"

"Juliet!" Germany spun him around in his arms. "I thought you were dead!"

"No, I wasn't! I only drank a potion that made me look dead so we could be together!" Italy looked up at him with his brown eyes, and a little too emotionally, whispered. "I love you, Romeo"

Germany blinked, and then smile. "I love you, too"

And before he could do anything to stop it, Italy grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him full on the mouth.

"Now my friends, before we part / I'll give you lesson you should learn from the start," Greece narrated, his poetic side kicking in. "For all of your loved ones you should give / not your ability die but your willingness to live"

The curtain fell, and the crowd erupted in applause. France hurried backstage, glaring at all of the chibi kids. "Those weren't_. Your. Lines_" he took in a breath, and then began tearing up at the eyes. "_But it was so cute_!"

Japan smirked, and then nudged Italy with his elbow. "Did kissing Germany feel any good?"

"A lot better than I thought it would," Italy admitted with a giggle, and Japan rolled his eyes. Something told him that Italy was going to be giggling for a while.

* * *

_**And that, my friends, is how I think 'Romeo and Juliet' should have ended. Because the lesson "you're not supposed to die for the ones you love, you're supposed to live for them" isn't taught often enough. And Greece's little ending couplets were a thing of my own creation, a-thank-you-very-much. **_

_**If you can tell me that Disney movie that the sword fight scene was based off of, you'll make your way into my big book of awesome. **_

_**In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!***_


	39. Chapter 39

_**I don't know what's worse—a flight in the dead of the night or a flight at the crack of dawn. Maybe it's just flights period. **_

_**Anyways, since I'm back in the States, here's a celebratory chapter. **_

_**By the way, the Disney movie that Romeo and Juliet scene was from was 'the Little Mermaid.' It's the scene that King Triton finds her secret trove and blows it up. I just turned it into a swordfight scene. **_

_**~ * ~ * 39 ~ * ~ ***_

In all the years since its invention, neither Germany nor Prussia had ever been on an airplane before. Even so, the idea seemed exciting: flying through the air on a metal bird with the option of drinks and such at your fingertips. Not to mention, even if the flight was long, Germany figured he could color or watch a movie on Prussia's laptop. And he was allowed to take his giant Scooby-Doo plushy with him, so he couldn't find one reason to why this wouldn't be fun.

Yeah; bad idea.

The real trouble began before the flight, when Prussia nearly lost their boarding passes. Hungary quickly found them in his back pocket (he snatched them back and hissed that he didn't need help from cross-dressers.) And Germany didn't have much time to roll his eyes like normal, because he was too amazed by the sight of the planes taking off.

Then came security. Honestly, what was the point in stripping everything off just to put it back on again? Germany wasn't even in middle school yet, how the _hell_ would he make and smuggle a bomb? And where would he hide it; in the belly of his stuffed animal? However, when Germany decided to ask Prussia that question, he hissed not to mention the word 'bomb' and gave nervous smiles to every security worker he passed until they got out.

At least the food outside the airport was good, as Germany enjoyed a Happy Meal that tasted just like any other one in the outside world. But that was put to a stop when Prussia grabbed him and took off like a bullet, exclaiming that they were going to 'miss their flight.'

Guess who wasn't missing their flight.

Germany grunted in annoyance as he took his seat next to Italy and Japan, while the adults bickered about who was sitting where and who was doing what when they landed. Japan was doodling in his sketchbook and Italy, similarly to Germany, thought the comfort of stuffed animals would be the smarter choice.

"Where're you guys gonna sit?" Italy asked, smiling in the comfort of a big, fluffy teddy bear.

"28C," Germany said. "You?"

"28D," Japan said, smirking in what looked like Italy's direction (but Germany couldn't be sure.) "Looks like we're sitting together"

"It's a three person seat, Japan!" Italy pouted, crossing his arms. "I'm 28E, so I'll be sitting with you guys, too"

"I wonder if they did that on purpose," Germany shrugged. "So they three of us could sit together"

"It wouldn't surprise me," Japan said. "I doubt any of them will want to deal with us when we get on the plane"

"Have you ever flown before, Japan?" Italy asked with a smile.

"Once," Japan shrugged. "When China took me over to my house and showed me where my land is"

"Did you like it?" Germany asked. "The flight, I mean"

Japan paused for a moment, and then shook his head. "You know what? I'll let you guys decide on that"

Though his choice of words seemed weird, Germany pushed the thought away and returned to playing with his Scooby-Doo plushy. It turns out there was a little button on its paw, so that when you pushed it, it exclaimed phrases like '_Scooby-Dooby-Doo_!' or '_anything for a Scooby-Snack_!' Though the phrases got repetitive after a while, Germany found it endless entertainment.

That was followed by the boarding part, with endless passport checks just so they could make sure he wasn't cheating his way in or that he was indeed who he said he was. Prussia then took him to his seat, told him he was sitting at 22A and to find him if anything went wrong, and then left him with a kiss on the forehead.

The plane taking off was possibly the most terrifying thing Germany had ever experienced. It was about as smooth as an earthquake and about as loud as one too. So, as he gripped the arms of his seat for his dear life, Germany was beginning to reconsider if this was a good idea.

Then he was met with an awkward feeling in his ears and a headache that was more annoying than painful. He held his nose and his breath so to pop his ears, but that wasn't the end of it. He had this weird feeling of going uphill for a while, until the plane smoothened out.

Germany was actually surprised to how bored one can get after an hour. He talked to Japan and Italy for a little bit, but then Japan wanted to draw his soda or something and Italy had a coloring book. Germany had one as well, but the plane ride wasn't smooth enough to get the full coloring experience, so he decided against it.

Not to mention the person in front of him thought it was totally acceptable to lean their chair all the way back. _Yeah, that's ok, asshole; I don't like being comfortable anyways,_ Germany thought with a grunt. Since the back of their chair was now in his face, laptops or sleeping on his tray wasn't an option.

But, then again, there was something relaxing about this. So Germany fluffed up his pillow, snuggled up in his blanket (both were obviously cheaply made, but they worked well all the same) and drifted off into sleep.

About two hours later, he was jerked awake when the plane suddenly hit a bump. Germany didn't understand _how_ they hit a 'bump in the road' when they were in the air, but that wasn't exactly what he was thinking when he woke up only to have his face slammed into the seat.

"_Passengers, this is your captain speaking,_" a voice said over the intercom. "_As you can see, we're facing some minor turbulence. It will be over soon. Thank you_"

"What's turbulence?" Germany asked, turning to Japan.

"Wind currents," Japan was now reading a book, something in Japanese that was the size of a brick. "When the plane hits off ones, it bumps around a bit"

"Oh," Germany tapped his fingers on the arms of his chair, and then turned back to the one he considered 'the smart one' out of everyone they hung out with (adults included.) "Will there be a lot more?"

"I don't think so," Japan shrugged, licking his finger to turn the page. "That was a major one, so I think there's only going to be a few small ones from this point on"

"Ok, thanks—hey," Germany looked over to the empty seat beside Japan. "Where's Italy?"

"Huh?" Japan turned, only now noticing the fact that the seat was empty. "He was here a second ago!"

"Oh, God," Germany's eyes were the size of dinner plates. "Hungary's gonna kill us if anything happened to him!"

"Hungary! Maybe the turbulence scared him and he went to Hungary's seat?" Japan snapped his fingers with his idea. "She's sitting with Austria-San—!"

"Great, _more_ angry parents!" Germany bit his bottom lip.

"—in seat 19G," Japan continued, narrowing his eyes at him.

"Do you really want to take that chance?"

". . . No"

"Then come on," Germany unbuckled his seatbelt, jumping down from his seat. "We'll go look there, and if he isn't there, we're gonna have to look around"

Japan tried to jump onto the back of the seats and crawl on the ceiling, but Germany quickly grabbed his sleeve and told him it would be easier to just walk there. Japan muttered something along the lines of 'you're no fun,' but otherwise followed him.

"Damn," Germany hissed, the two of them army crawling near seat 19G (if Hungary caught them, they'd be dead. Austria they could deal with, but not Hungary. There was no escape with her.) "He's not there"

"Maybe he just went to the bathroom?" Japan suggested. "He could be back by now"

The two boys made their way back to their seats, where still, Italy wasn't there. They waited for five, ten, fifteen minutes before they realized that wherever Italy was, he wasn't planning on coming back. And considering the fact they didn't want to deal with an outraged overprotective mother, they decided to look around.

Germany looked in the front of the plane while Japan looked in the back, and still had no luck. Germany met with Japan back in their own seats, where Italy still hadn't returned. Japan had chewed off nearly all of his nails, and considering the fact that countries heal fast, he was just chewing them off, only for them to grow back, and then bite them off again.

"He's got to be in the bathroom," Germany said. "He's not anywhere else"

"For half an hour?" Japan hysterically looked up from his bitten-off nails.

"Do you have a better idea?" Germany hissed. "Have you looked there yet?"

"No, have you?"

"No, so we should look there"

Japan sighed, wiping the spit on his nails on his jeans and nodding to Germany. The two of them walked to the back of the plane, and Germany knocked on the door to the bathroom (which did have an 'occupied' sign on it.)

". . . Occupied . . ." it was the sad voice of a little boy with an Italian accent, and both Germany and Japan let out sighs of relief.

"Italy, you had us worried sick!" Japan exclaimed. "What're you doing in there? Come out!"

". . . No . . ."

"Why not?" Germany asked.

". . .I don't wanna," Italy sniffled.

"Then can we come in?" Japan asked, and there was a pause, as Italy slid the doors open and allowed them to enter. Even for three young boys, the space was crowded and cramped. Germany and Japan were shoved into corners, while Italy sat on the toilet seat.

"People are going to need to go to the bathroom, you know," Germany reminded him, trying to get some kind of arm space.

"They can go to the other one," Italy had his knees up to his chest. "I'm not coming out"

"Why not?" Japan was flattened out against the door. "It's much more comfortable out there"

"You can go out, there's enough room for one in here," Italy said with a sniff.

"Italy, I don't care how much room there is, you can't camp out in the bathroom," Germany grunted. "Why can't you just sit with us?"

Italy paused, and then sniffled a bit, and then much to their horror, he burst into tears. Very _loud_ tears. "_I'M SCAAAAARED_!"

"Italy, calm down!" Japan hushed, clenching his teeth and turning to Germany for help. "I—it's ok! The turbulence is over!"

"_WHAT IF WE FALL OUT OF THE SKY? WE'RE ALL GONNA CRASH AND DIE_!" Italy's voice was close to shouting, and his sobs sounding something like a person getting stabbed to death. "_I WANT MY MAMA!_"

"Shh, shh, Italy!" Germany exclaimed, making motions in a frail attempt to calm him down. "We're not gonna die, you're mom's only a few seats away from us—!"

"_UWAAHHHH_!" Italy made an attempt to wipe the tears from his eyes, but by know they were flowing like water out of a faucet. "_I WANT OFF THIS DEATHTRAP! MAMAAAAAAAA!" _

"Italy, stop, you're making a scene!" Japan lurched forward and covered Italy's mouth with his palm. Even though he couldn't talk anymore, he still sobbed and looked at him with big, sad, terrified eyes. Japan hesitated for a second, and then slowly let his hand off of his mouth.

"D-do . . . do you a h—" Japan made a sound similar to one having something stuck in their throat. "A hu—hu—a hu—hug—?"

Italy didn't even hesitated, he lurched forward and wrapped his arms around Japan's chest with an impact so strong it sent Japan stumbling backwards and ramming into the sink. He let out a noise of pain, and then patted Italy on the head as if he was a puppy that he just didn't want to deal with.

"There, there," Japan muttered, and then silently turned to Germany for help. Germany shrugged, trying hard not to laugh. "Um, we're not gonna die"

"How do you know?" Italy sniffled.

"What if we ask the captain?" Germany offered. "I'm sure he knows"

"Are we allowed to do that?" Japan asked, lightly poking Italy in an attempt to push him off (a failed one.)

"How else are we gonna calm him down?" Germany asked, and then patted Italy on the shoulder. "Italy, what do _you_ want?"

"S—seeing the Cap—Capitan would be n—nice," Italy said between sniffles, blowing his nose on a handkerchief that Japan offered him. He tried to hand it back to Japan, but the boy just insisted that he should keep it.

"Ok," the three exited the bathroom, only to find that everyone within ten rows was staring at them. Germany offered a nervous laugh, and Italy hid behind him, while Japan did the same, leaving Germany to the spotlight.

"Do_ not_ go in there," Germany said just loud enough for them to hear, and then took off down the aisle as fast as his legs could allow him, with Japan and Italy going no slower.

* * *

The captain's quarters (as Germany had nicknamed it) wasn't hard to find, as it was at the very beginning of the plane. Germany didn't bother knocking; he simply opened the door and walked in, his friends following him.

"What the—?" the pilot was a French man with short-cut blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and like France himself, he held his posture with a way that seemed to say 'I'm better than you'. His co-pilot was an American woman in her late twenties or so, with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail and light blue eyes. She had a nametag, but it was one of those English names that Germany had a hard time pronouncing.

"Who let a couple of kids in here?" the pilot's accent was seeping through his voice.

"Sorry, guys, you've gotta go sit down," the co-pilot said, returning her attention to the controls. "I'm afraid it's gonna be a long while until we land"

"We're sorry for bothering you, but our friend got scared," Germany gestured for Italy to show himself, and the little Italian boy offered a wave. "We thought you could calm him down"

"I've got this," the pilot nodded to the co-pilot (who quickly took over directing the plane), and he bent down in front of Italy. The first thing Germany noticed was that this guy was freaking _tall_, around six or so feet. Germany was already insecure about his height, and this guy wasn't making him feel any better. "What's your name?"

". . . Italy," Italy whispered. "And this is Japan, and this is Germany"

"It's nice to meet you, _Italia_," the co-pilot offered a smile. "My name is Antoine. That's my co-pilot, Virginia"

"'Sup?" the co-pilot offered a quick hand motion, thankfully not taking her eyes off the 'road.'

"Did you have to go to school to be a pilot?" Italy asked, looking at the badges that were on his shirt.

"Yes, five years of it," Antoine said. "We went through a lot of training to be even allowed in here, so don't worry, we're not gonna crash"

"But the turbulence! Why's there so much of it?" Italy asked.

"He can't control the turbulence, Italy, it's a force of nature!" japan exclaimed before Antoine could explain it himself. "But since they can't control it, they're trained to deal with it. They have all sorts of strategies so they don't crash during a flight"

Antoine looked at him, giving him a long stare. "What was your name again, kid?"

"Japan,"

"I like you; you're smart. You get a badge" he took a set of plastic wings and pinned them to Japan's shirt. You would've thought that boy won the Nobel Peace Prize by the look on his face.

"So we're . . . not gonna die?" Italy asked; his voice nervous.

"Nope," Antoine smiled. "Now, get back to your seats. We have six more hours and twenty minutes before we land"

Germany took his seat, with Italy coloring his book and Japan admiring his new "badge". He sighed, putting on some headphones and turning on a movie to watch. This was going to be a long, _long _night.

But hey, at least Italy wasn't going to have a heart attack.

_**The next chapter probably won't be everyone in some kind of foreign country, unless you guys think that's a good idea. **_

_**And yeah, that's how long my flight was. **_Nine hours and twenty minutes. _**And I hate airplane food (they don't even cook it right, what they have to heat it up like a level below a microwave) so I had nothing but chocolates and soda for that entire time. Usually we go at night, so we have dinner before we take off and won't starve, but this time we went in the morning. So I had a shitty McDonald's breakfast and McCafé shit. More like Mc-Serves-Shit-For-Breakfast.**_

_** One last thing: do any of you like those RPG horror games (examples would be like 'the Witch's House', 'Ib', 'Mad Father', and 'Misao')? If so, do you know any good ones? I've kinda grown addicted, and I recently played "the Crooked Man", "Paranoiac", and "Mermaid Swamp". **_

_**In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja**_

_***BAGPIPES EXIT!* **_


	40. Chapter 40

_**I tried to fight it, but I couldn't. **_

_**~ * ~ * 40 ~ * ~ ***_

Germany hated amusement parks.

Well, he didn't before, but he decided he did when everyone else lost their shit when they landed in Florida. He guessed that Canada and America had been given a little too much sugar on the plane, because they were practically blonde blurs zipping around shouting "_we're going to Disney World!_" at the top of their lungs, with America beginning to foam at the mouth.

Germany rolled his eyes. Disney world couldn't be that great, and they were a big party. He just _knew_ that the place was going to be packed and that someone was going to get lost.

Upon dropping their things off at the hotel, Spain suggested that everyone get a buddy and then they could all meet up at the hotel once they were done.

"Hell no!" Prussia exclaimed. "Germany's not old enough!"

"Not old enough? He's in the sixth grade," Spain said with a raise of an eyebrow. "He's gonna be in Middle school soon, I think he should learn some responsibility"

"_Sixth grade_? Since when?!" Prussia whipped him around, grabbing him by the shoulders and looking him in the eye. "West, is that _true_?!"

"Considering I just finished the fifth grade, yeah," Germany raised an eyebrow. "We're in the middle of the summer, Prussia"

Prussia continued to look at him with horrified eyes, just as Italy exclaimed that he wanted Japan and Germany to be his buddies. Germany agreed, and Japan didn't really care as long as he got to meet Mulan.

* * *

"I wanna ride the teacups," Spain said, putting his hands in his pockets. "They're right over there, let's get in line"

"But it looks long," France whined, putting a finger to his chin in thought. "Maybe we should look for a shorter line?"

"All of the lines are long!" Spain exclaimed, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him back and forth. "I'm not leaving this amusement park until I ride the teacups!"

"Fine, fine," France huffed, and then turned to Prussia. "What do you think?"

". . . Middle school . . ." Prussia muttered, while France and Spain exchanged an annoyed glance. They'd been walking around for half an hour, taken a train over to the Magic Kingdom, and the only words to escape Prussia's mouth were the words 'middle school.'

"It's not really rattling information," Spain said. "My kids are all going to middle school, and Romano's going to the seventh grade this year. It isn't so much of a big deal"

"Yes, it is!" Prussia snapped. "He's growing up!"

There was a pause, and then France asked: "So?"

"It's just . . . it's gone by so fast," Prussia sighed. "Soon he'll be in high school, and then he's going to graduate and go to college . . . . I dunno, I just thought he was going to be my little boy forever"

"Yeah," Spain patted him on the back. "But growing up is good. It means you're doing your job right," he then grabbed them both by the wrists and dragged them over to the lines. "Now, let's stop pondering on our lives and let's start riding some teacups!"

* * *

"I'm scared," Italy whimpered, as they were only a couple people away from boarding the Tower of Terror, which Italy insisted that they ride because of the 'pretty lights.' However, after seeing the video on how the people died in the elevator, he exclaimed that they needed to get out of there before lightning struck and killed them all. However, Germany and Japan had been waiting in the line for twenty minutes and weren't ready to back out because Italy suddenly got cold feet.

"It's just a ride," Germany said, but the creaks and groans of the sound effects box and the creepy hotel bellboy look that all the workers had to them was making him feel a little uneasy.

"Nothing is going to hurt us," Japan insisted, but he had to be dragged into the seats by the back of his collar. One of the workers strapped the three of them in, and then smiled.

"Have fun," he said in a tone of voice that sounded like someone straight out of a horror movie. The three boys exchanged a glance, each of them gripping on the rails of their seats so hard they left nail marks in the plastic.

Germany then opened his mouth. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea—"

Then, almost as if done on purpose, the doors slammed shut and the elevator box shot upwards like a rock out of a slingshot.

* * *

"That was _awesome_!" Germany and Japan rushed out into the gift shop, jumping around and fist-bumping each other while talking about which part of the ride they thought was the best. Japan apparently thought that the editing was amazing, while Germany thought that the drop was exciting.

Italy, on the other hand, was shivering and looking like he was seconds away from losing his breakfast. He'd already crashed into two tables, and Germany and Japan had each had an arm around his shoulders to keep him walking steady. But they remained chatting excitedly.

"H-hey . . . Japan . . ." Italy sounded sick. "Didn't you say . . . that you wanted to . . . meet . . . Mulan . . .?"

Japan paused, and his face turned bright red. "It's not important"

"We could take a train to Epcot," Germany smirked. "Don't you worry, Japan, you'll be able to meet your Disney princess"

As promised, the three of them boarded the next train to Epcot and made their way to the China section. Japan had insisted that it was all very racist that they assumed she'd be in China and not the Magic Kingdom with all the other princesses and that they should just enjoy being in Epcot since they were already there.

Luckily for Italy and Germany (who found the fact that Japan wanted to meet a Disney princess very amusing,) it was noon, so Mulan was in fact in the China section. She was crowded by little girls in tiaras and signing autographs. She was surrounded by a small crowd, all shoving to get a hug and there was at least one camera flash every couple of seconds.

"T-this is a bad idea," Japan spluttered. "There's already a crowd of people there—!"

"Go get her, Lover-Boy," Germany smirked, and then proceeded to shove him straight into the princess. She let out a noise of surprise, and Japan's face was about as red as it could get, possibly even redder that that.

"_K-kon'nichiwa_," Japan began to speak his native language rapidly, a sign that he was getting nervous. "_Watashi wa mōshiwakearimasen, watashi wa anata ni butsukaru tsumori wa nakatta nda, soreha subete no watashi no orokana yūjin no seidatta_"

The princess looked confused. "What?"

"Japan, speak English!" Italy exclaimed, and he was surprised by how familiar those words sounded. After all, it had been a long time since Japan pretended to not know English.

"I-I'm sorry, my f-friends pushed m-me," Japan spluttered.

Mulan giggled. "It's alright, it was an accident," she bent down on her knees to hug him, and then kissed him on the cheek before sending him off back to his friends.

He hardly made it five steps before fainting.

"Japan!" Germany surged forward, catching him in his arms. "Are you alright?"

"I've never been better," Japan's voice sounded wispy and dreamy. Italy then giggled like a schoolgirl, and Germany shook his head at him. If he said a cheesy joke right now, Germany would—!

"So, I take it you want _Chinese food_?"

* * *

_**I'm sorry, but Mulan's a BAMF chick. I'd faint, too, if she hugged me. **_

_**In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja **_

_***BAGPIPESE EXIT!***_


	41. Chapter 41

_**~ * ~ * Chapter 41 ~ * ~ * **_

_Back to school shopping_—the words were like poison to his mouth.

Each of them got a list of their school supplies, a "shopping buddy," and twenty bucks each. As usual, Germany was stuck with Japan and Italy. Not that he was complaining, but he doubted that twenty dollars each was going to cover for all of them. And when he tried to tell Prussia that, he "turned off his ears" and walked away with his friends.

Germany rolled his eyes and followed his friends down the walkways. Ever since he reminded him that he was going to middle school, he seemed to ignore just about everything that Germany said. As if he'd been lying to him this entire time.

"_Weeeeeee_!" Italy exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. Japan was pushing him around in one of the shopping carts, and by the way Italy was acting, you would think that he was on a rollercoaster. That kid really did miss Disney World.

"Ok," Germany said, walking alongside Japan. "We need a binder, notebooks, pencils, pens, tabs, colored pencils, markers, glue sticks, two folders, and a . . . tissue box? What," he rechecked the list, and then shrugged. "How's _that_ gonna help us learn? Whatever, we need it"

"Alright!" Italy clapped his hands. "Let's go get it!"

The three of them walked down the school isle, looking at all the note books and folders and trying to decide if they wanted a Spider-Man or a Batman one. Then again, that new Ironman movie made them want an Ironman one more and more. However, their ever-so-important discovery was interrupted when Italy screamed.

They're first thought was that Italy got his head stuck in one of the toilet seats, or that one of the horror movie covers scared him. The two exchanged a glance, and then ran down the aisles.

"Italy! Italy, are you all—?" Germany started, but he was interrupted when Italy leapt out at him, holding a box in his hands.

"Look!" Italy exclaimed, waving the movie in front of their faces. "I found it; _The Hunger Games_! I wanted to see that movie when it first came out but I never got the chance!"

"Isn't that supposed to be an action movie?" Germany asked.

"No," Italy giggled. "It's a _love_ story!"

"I don't think you can handle that movie," Japan looked through the disks sets, and then picked out another one. "_The Karate Kid_; why's it in China if it's the karate kid? More like the Kung-Fu Kid"

"It's not a big deal, Japan," his eyes then widened. "Cool, look: _World War Z_; we should watch it"

"How about no," Japan muttered. "I don't like zombies. There has got to be something—"

"Hey, guys," Italy smiled while he held up his movie. "How about this one? It's got wizards in it!"

"_Now You See Me_," Germany read off. "That's about magic _tricks_ not magic"

"Whatever! It looks really cool!" Italy exclaimed, jumping up and down. "We should get it!"

"That, or _the Exorcism of Emily Rose_," Japan said, holding up the DVD case. Italy instantly went pale in the face and shook his head rapidly.

"No, no. I saw the trailer for that movie and it's super scary," Italy's words were fast and slurred together.

"It's old," Germany smirked. "It can't be half as bad as—" him and Japan looked up slowly, and at the same time they both exclaimed. "_The Conjuring_!"

"No, no, no!" Italy exclaimed, his eyes wide. "That's supposed to be terrifying! And it's a Rated-R movie, so ha!"

"Japan looks older in the face," Germany said. "He could stand on my shoulders and we could put on a big overcoat—"

"That's crazy!" Italy snapped. "And people are gonna recognize you!"

"America says you kind of look like a girl from behind, too," Germany smirked. "We could use that to our advantage, make you look like a chick. No one will ever know!"

"Or we could buy tickets for _Despicable Me 2 _and just sneak into the next showing of _the Conjuring_," Japan said with a raise of an eyebrow.

"They'll never let us see _Despicable Me 2_ without them!" Italy reminded them with a smile.

"Then we'll say that we're seeing _Turbo _or _Pacific Rim_," Japan shrugged. "Does it really matter what we say we're gonna see? We're gonna end up seeing the same movie anyways"

"Japan, you're a _genius_!" Germany exclaimed, and then slapped himself on the forehead. "And I was gonna have you sit on my shoulders in a wig"

"This is a bad idea!" Italy exclaimed, his eyes huge.

"It's ok, you don't have to come if you're too scared," Japan said with a shrug. "It'll just be me and Germany—"

"I'll go," Italy said quickly, latching himself onto Germany's arm. "It'll just be you and Germany and _me_"

"Right," Germany attempted to get Italy off him, but with no luck. "We should get soda and candy, 'cause the movie theater stuff is expensive"

The three kids darted around, getting what they felt was the needed amount of their favorite candy and three bottles of Coca-Cola (Japan tried to get Green Tea for himself, but neither of them would let him, saying that he needed to 'act like a kid' for once.) By the time they checked out, they had nearly three shopping bags full.

"I feel like we're forgetting something . . ." Germany muttered, and then his eyes widened. "Our school shopping! How much money do we have left?"

"Four dollars, three pennies, and a nickel," Japan said, taking the change out of his pocket. "We don't even have five dollars left"

"Can we buy anything on this list with just four dollars?" Italy bit his lower lip, and he looked like he was about to cry any second now. "Even a pack of pencils for each of us is going to cost more than that"

"No," Germany said, grabbing both of them by the wrists and dragging them over to the school isles. "There's one thing"

* * *

"Ok," Spain went off his list, checking who had school supplies and who didn't. "Argentina and Chile: check. Brazil, Ecuador, and Bolivia: check. Uruguay and Paraguay—"

"Paraguay and Uruguay," the two corrected, pointing to each other.

"Oh, sorry, niños," Spain laughed.

"We don't even look alike!" The two exclaimed, and then sighed in annoyance.

Spain, on the other hand, continued on while ignoring them. "Romano and Mexico: check. Columbia, Venezuela, and Puerto Rico: check. Taiwan, Vietnam, and Peru: check. America, Canada, and South Korea: check. India, Australia, and New Zealand: check. Seychelles and Belarus: check. Italy, Japan, and Germany: ch—," he looked around a bit. "Where's Italia and his friends?"

"Here!" Italy shouted, as the three boys came running down the parking lot. The three were out of breath, panting, and held three shopping bags.

"Oh, hey," Spain smiled. "Did you get your school stuff?"

"K-kind of," Germany panted, and while Japan his behind him, he pulled out the one thing off the list that they managed to buy. "We got a tissue box"

* * *

"I don't think I can stress this enough," Germany said as the three of them entered the theater. "Japan, you are a _genius_!"

"I know, I know," Japan smirked. As planned, they'd asked if they could go see _Turbo_ in theaters, and then left quickly so no one else could ask to come. They'd bought their tickets, said their fair wells, and then congratulated each other for their awesome acting and how they'd all make great super spy's one day.

After buying their popcorn, the three sat in the theatre, which was filled with a combination of grown men and teenaged couples that were kissing as if they were trying to suck each other's lips off. Germany made sure to sit a good number of seats away from those people.

Even though the movie hasn't started yet, Italy was digging his fingernails into the seat, breathing heavily, and he was sweating through every pore. "I—I don't think this is a good idea"

"Italy, it's just a movie," Germany rolled his eyes. "How bad can it be?"

* * *

"Truth or dare," Prussia asked, as the three members of the Bad Touch Trio, Hungary, and China were sitting in the car, waiting for the three kids to come out.

France shrugged. "Truth, I guess"

"Mmmmm, ok," Prussia teetered back in his seat, thinking for much too long. "Uh . . . Who do . . . You like?"

"It's an odd combination of China and Britain," France said with a flip of his hair.

"Ew—France! I'm right here, aru!" China snapped, crossing his arms.

"Ok, you're turn, France," Prussia said.

"Uh . . . China," Francis said, smirking as he leaned forward. "Truth or dare?"

"I don't want to play this stupid game," China said, leaning back in his seat. "But if I had to pick, dare"

"I dare you to kiss me," France smirked.

"I pick truth," China said quickly, while the other members of the BTT exclaimed that he couldn't back out of a dare. The one who seemed most enthusiastic about them missing was Hungary, who was practically chanting "kiss, kiss, fall in love!" China sighed, kissed to fingers, and then pressed them to France's mouth. France looked like he was about to faint.

"Ok, uh . . . Spain, truth or dare," China asked.

"Truth," Spain said.

"What's uh . . . What's your favorite holiday?" China shrugged, as his attention obviously wasn't on any this.

"Triangle—China, truth or dare?" Spain asked.

"Truth," China said nervously, as figured he learned his lesson about dares.

"So are you a virgin?" Spain asked, smirking at France.

"What kind of question is that?" China snapped. "You're all ganging up on me, aru!"

"Smart," Hungary smirked, slightly disappointed by the lack of kissing. You would've guessed that she thought that China deserved awkward questions, given that he didn't kiss France and all.

"Answer the question," Prussia looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. "But judging by the number of kids you've got, my guess is that the answer is 'no, I'm not'"

"I'm—" China took in a breath, and then looked out the window. "Their movies done; look"

The three boys exited the movie theater, realized it was nighttime, and ran over to the car so fast you would've thought something was chasing them. They then slammed their hands on the car multiple times while screaming to be let in.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Prussia exclaimed as the three of them jumped into the car, Germany latching onto Prussia, Japan hugged China as tightly as he could, and Italy buried his face in his mother's shoulder and cried for her to protect him.

"What's wrong with you guys?" Prussia asked, while Hungary repeated said "shh" to Italy in an attempt to soothe him and China patted down Japan's hair. "You look like you've been scarred for life"

"I—I want a new closet," Germany's voice was muffled, as he still had his face buried into Prussia's shoulder.

"Wedon'thaveabasementwedon'thaveabasementwedon'tha veabasementwedon'thaveabasementwedon'thaveabasemen t—" Italy chanted, clawing through his hair with both of his hands and rocking back and forth on his mother's lap.

Japan didn't speak, but his eyes were the size of dinner plates and he hugged his knees to his chest, rocking back and forward. China clutched him close, giving Prussia and Hungary a confused look, and they shrugged in response.

"Those snails must be pretty terrifying," Spain shrugged, starting to drive away. "Hey, why don't we sing something? It would really calm them down"

France nodded. "_If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands_!"

_Clap, clap_

By the way the three boys screamed, you would've thought they were being murdered.

* * *

_**Just to get it out there: I have never seen 'the Conjuring.' But the clap teaser trailer was enough to scare the living shit out of me, and I heard that it's crazy scary. However, I have seen all of the other movies mentioned in this ('The Hunger Games,' 'Now You See Me,' 'Pacific Rim,' 'Despicable Me 2,' etc.) and they're all really good. In short, they should've just listened to Italy.**_

_** I haven't seen 'the Exorcism of Emily Rose,' but the trailer looks terrifying. So go watch it.**_

_**Bad news, guys: the chapters after this one are going to be delayed. I'm going on a trip, you see, and I'll only have my phone with me, since we're going el-natural. Even then, the chapters would be poorly edited and wouldn't be very long. So, in short, I'm going to be MIA for a while. Sorry.**_

_** Then again, if you ever miss this story, you can go back and re-read its previous 40 chapters. I dunno. Sorry that there's gonna be a delay.**_

_** In Shades of Blue,**_

_**Ninja**_


End file.
